


His Shadow

by iamyourownforever (Keepcalmanddontgetangry)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Blow Jobs, Child Death, Corruption of the innocent, Death, Drunk Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, First Time, Gen, Gothic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Character Death, Monster Kylo Ren, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Finn, POV First Person, POV Hux, Vampire Kylo Ren, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keepcalmanddontgetangry/pseuds/iamyourownforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hux returns to Renfield, the town of his birth, to take on the position of his late father, he soon meets the beautifully mysterious, self-imposed Lord of the town, Kylo Ren. After months of consulting with each other, in Ren's isolated castle, terrifying events begin to take place. </p><p>Finn has lived in the town of Renfield all his life. The town may have its ways, which those from the outside may deem odd, yet he still feels that he has done well for himself; becoming a teacher at the town's only school. But after the horrifying death of a  childhood friend, and the arrival of a handsome stranger with questions that need answers, Finn finds himself questioning where his loyalties really lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1 Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my friends, Matt, [kyluxtrashcompactor](http://kyluxtrashcompactor.tumblr.com), [irisparry](http://irisparry.tumblr.com), [catnapcpt](http://catnapcpt.tumblr.com), and anyone else I jumped into messenger for to bounce ideas off of for this fic, for reading through my work for mistakes, giving me encouragement when I needed it, and even making art to accompany the story so far!

It is rare for travellers to tread onto the manic pathways that vein through the forest connecting the town Renfield to the outside world. Those that do are either lost and desperate to find a way out of the wolf infested wood, having taken a wrong turn on their journey to a neighbouring place, or know a safe passage through the dense trees as they are of the town's blood and are returning home after fulfilling their desire for adventure. The former are not often found alive, if at all. The remains of their bodies, found by townspeople searching the forest grounds for berries and herbs, torn to pieces and covered in dried muddy blood, only a few well-placed turns from the town's sight.

I, myself, am a member of the latter, in part. Returning to the queer little town of Renfield after the untimely death of my father, Brendol Hux, the unelected Governor. As his only living relative, which was also the result of the accidental death of my older brother during my first year away from the uninspired town, it had fallen on me to take up his place. It was out of a misguided sense of duty that I took on the role, despite the only memories I seemed to have harboured of the town was the overwhelming longing, as a child, to leave it as soon as I became old enough. An unfortunate consequence of my decision was that my education in London was cut short, and my thirst for adventure had not been quenched. However, I am, if nothing else, a good son. Thus the agreement to return was unavoidable.

Renfield itself had not changed from what little I remembered of it, nor did it change in the time that I have been in service. The town is picturesque, if not a little old fashioned. There is only one well-worn road that tracks through the centre of the town. Along one of its side sits the school, the butchers, the grocers; and along the other is the bakers, the brewery, and the public house. The houses, which spew from the roadside, in both clusters and on isolated farmland, are built from old white stone, their roof's thatched. At the top of the road, upon a hill, sits the town’s church. Every Sunday the majority of the population attends mass, in spite of the hard climb. This is also as far as many of the townspeople are willing to venture outside of Renfield's known limits in that direction. The irrational reason being that, beyond the grey stones carved into the shapes of crucifixes--in the church's graveyard--far up the winding path that leads into the mountains, sitting atop the cliffs that overlook the sea, is the castle of Lord Kylo Ren.

With limited archived supplies at my disposal, learning about of the history of Castle Ren, when I first arrived, was difficult. I relied on word of mouth from the townspeople more than I had become comfortable with from my time away. However, each story I heard, regardless of the change of some minute details, consisted of similar traits. Them being that the family who once occupied the castle were the ones who funded the creation of the town. The surname Organa appeared in these conversations, more than once, in hushed tongues, though those who mentioned it crossed themselves immediately after it had been uttered. Apparently the family name held a past far too tragic to be shared, lest it be repeated. I did manage to find a few recordings of the name, in a dust-eaten leather bound book in the school library, suggesting that the family really had founded the town. However, many pages had been torn from their place, and there was no way of knowing what had happened to them.

I also came to understand, from my conversations with the townspeople, that the castle had in fact been abandoned for at least two decades. It was only a few years before my own return that someone had taken residence behind those old stone walls again. Before that, during its time of emptiness, no one had dared go up to the castle on account of it being haunted by some ghost or demon... Or by some other make-believe occupant that would have been much easier to deal with than the one that lived there now.

The first time I met Lord Ren it was by written invitation. I had been in my role as Governor for less than two weeks when my first letter arrived. Letters, I had come to learn, were rare from the outside as it took a messenger to brave the woods to deliver them. They came maybe once a year in a bundle, usually from the hand of some attractive, foolish young man who had been assigned the task of delivering to Renfield without knowing much about the town. Letters from within the town were equally rare; when everyone knows each other personally, and paper is a treasured item, there is little reason in wasting it with useless jabber.

Nonetheless, a letter from Lord Ren came, inviting me to dinner the next night at his home. The letter stated that a carriage would be sent to meet me, just past the first turn in the pathway into the mountains, to take me to the castle. Of course, if I had known then what would be waiting for me I would have missed the carriage and spent the night alone.

My previous investigations on the infamous Kylo Ren brought me to the conclusion that he was feared almost as much as the castle he lived in. Since his arrival, which had taken place on a night with a new moon--information that was repeated by all those I asked--not one person has seen him in the flesh. The only evidence that he existed at all were the weekly shopping lists that were sent to all the businesses in town. The supplies that they offered reached the castle the same way that I would be, by the mysterious carriage that would not be met within town.

The sun was setting when I reached the destination described in Kylo Ren’s letter. Upon arrival I saw that his carriage was already waiting there for me. A two-wheeled black barouche pulled by four black horses. The driver, whom I assumed to be a man due to his stiff posture, sat in his seat covered in a long cloak that covered half his face. The hood of the cloak also sat over his head, leaving nothing visible to me but the darks of his eyes.

“You’re Hux?” the driver said, speaking in a voice so deep that my suspicions of his sex were confirmed.

“Yes,” I replied, stretching my back. Despite the way he hunched over the horse’s reins, the driver was large, and I did not want to seem intimidated.

“Get on board. This is your ride.”

Without further question, partially due to my doubt that any would be answered if asked, I stepped onto the carriage. We set off in silence. One which I did not wish to keep. However, as I had predicted, the driver made no response to any of the conversation starters I sent to him. Other than an ugly grunt once in awhile, we continued in silence, and I gave up in trying to be polite.

The surface of the road was steep. During the journey I came to understand why the simple carriage needed four horses to draw it: strength and speed were necessities upon this path. By the time we reached the castle, a blanket of darkness had been dragged across the sky. Not a single light shone from any of the castle’s windows either, causing the seeds of doubt that had been planted within my stomach earlier to bloom.

“We’re here,” the driver announced, as if I could not see the obvious. He stepped down from his seat. No hand was offered to me to make the transition from my seat to the ground any easier, and I must confess my legs shook a little from the impact of my awkward landing. Meanwhile my driver stood a few feet ahead, face turned up towards to the castle. “I am glad to have you as my guest, Governor.”

The voice of my sole companion had changed. In Renfield it had been muffled by thick fabric, now it was not unlike a faraway storm. Each word was pronounced as vibrant as lightning, yet his tone never surpassed the distant grumble of thunder. And, like rain, it had caught me completely off guard.

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

"I said, I am glad to have you as my guest," the driver repeated. He turned to me as he spoke, the hood of his cloak removed from his head. "Welcome to my home, Governor Hux."

I must admit, the sight of the man that stood before me was not the one that I had come to imagine when I first pictured Lord Kylo Ren. He was much younger than his title suggested, and prettier than I had envisioned... Though in a peculiar way. Large ears, a long face and small eyes, are not features often associated with beauty, and yet my breath was taken.

He wore nothing but black; a strange choice in fashion, but one I have come to learn not to argue with him about. Locks of thick dark hair fell from his head to just above his broad shoulders. His skin was white and speckled with round moles, one of which sat above the right side of his plump, red, lips.

"You are free to enter at your own will," he continued as he walked past me to attend to the horses.

In my daze I had not realised that a door leading into the castle had been opened. However, my confusion was rapidly replaced by frustration when it became clear to me what had happened.

"Why did you not introduce yourself before? The entire trip...?! We sat in _silence_!"

Ren stopped beside the horses. I watched as he petted them with a large hand. When he did reply it was with repeated words: "You are free to enter my home at your own will. Please, go ahead. I shall be along shortly."

What choice did I have other than to do as he said? My warnings towards him had come long before I had stepped foot onto his carriage. It would have been impossible to ask to return to Renfield. Besides, I did not think I could suffer through another journey of likely silence. My only remaining hope was that dinner would not go forth in a similar fashion. My stomach rumbled for good food and conversation, which the letter had promised.

I was left to wait in a small circular room while Ren busied himself with chores that I would have hired someone else to do. To my thanks, the fireplace had been lit, and before it sat two large, cushioned, wooden chairs. Between them was a table that matched their woodwork, upon which was a bottle and glass of red wine. At the sight of the thick liquid I found it more agreeable to forgive Ren for what he was clearly lacking in social abilities. After all, if what I had heard of him was correct, he was not used to having company.

Dinner itself was a vast improvement to the carriage ride. It seemed that even Lord Kylo Ren's odd company could be kept when there was wine involved. Wine was a rare luxury of Renfield due to it having to be imported from the outside. The drink stung my tongue, yet I could not get enough of its intoxicating taste. My lips must have been stained purple by the time the final course had been served. I must confess, I do not remember much regarding the quality of the food. But I do know that, by the end of the meal, my stomach had swelled in size on account of the cut of my belt into my skin.

Our conversation was dominated by questions regarding my background and history with the town. Ren confessed that he had heard of my father, though he had never had the chance to invite him to the castle like this. I could not keep the disinterest, caused by the mention of my father from my face, and confound in Ren that I held a resentment towards the man.

"He had been able to finish his studies, and take up the role of Governor here much later," I said, rocking back in my chair. Not being used to such quantities of fine drink, the wine had gone to my head faster than I had expected. "At least my Grandfather had had the decency to die only after my father had completed his studies outside of this town. I simply wish I had been granted the same courtesy. Do not misunderstand me, it is an honour to return to Renfield and fulfil my duty. I am a good son. But... all the lecturers at the university had told me, on more than one occasion, that I held so much promise in my studies. "

Ren leaned across the table, filling my glass. In hindsight I can see the significance in the comparison of our glasses. Mine was refilled whenever it was near empty. His own sat beside him, untouched save for a few sips had throughout the night. Our eyes met above the candlelight. He grinned, revealing to me the unnatural point of his teeth. This unsettled me for reasons I still do not quite know. I picked up my drink and drank until the unease had worn away. It was likely that the wine he had given me hid the ingredients to the misfortune that was to follow.

***

I woke to the haunting image of silver eyes staring at me through the darkness. From what creature the eyes belonged to, I did not know. They were nothing like any beast I had seen or read about, shining like two moons risen in a black sky. In my terror it took me a while to realise that I was not lying in familiar surroundings. The press of the mattress against my back was too soft to be from my own bed; shadows fell in the wrong corners of the room, and the cooling breeze that came through my opened bedroom window every night was absent.  

Sitting up to inspect my surroundings, I noticed that my evening dress had been replaced with a night shirt and much looser fitting trousers. This implied that someone had undressed me without my knowledge or consent. Finding myself in a greater state of confusion, I got up from the bed in search for a source of light.

Up on the wall furthest from the bed, I saw a sliver of light leaking under thick curtains of tremendous value. I opened them, allowing the room to flood with sunshine. The sudden change in brightness caused me to stumble backward towards the bed. I blinked rapidly until my eyes had become accustomed to the change. At last I was able to take in my environment.

The first thing my attention was drawn to was the window I had just found. It was long and narrow, not built for the purpose of letting light into a room. Now I could see that to reach it I had to step on top of a low ledge. In doing so, I immersed myself into the stone wall, straining my neck in order to catch a failed glimpse of what was outside. I did not know what to expect to see from my vantage point, but I it should not have been anything more than the blue sky and hundreds of trees.

I stepped down from the window and surveyed the rest of the room. Despite the window, it actually appeared quite comfortable. Against one wall stood the bed I had woken in, and at the foot of it was a desk and a chair. Upon the desk was a stack of books, the titles of which I do not remember--even though I was forced that day to read them out of boredom--and on the chair I saw my clothes from the night before. I hurried towards them, picking them up and holding them to my chest. My nose wrinkled. There was an odd odour to them which I could not place.

Nevertheless, I changed back into them; smoothing out the creases in my shirt. There was no mirror to check my appearance in, which I found strange considering I was in a room most likely meant for guests. There was one not even to be found in the small bathroom, that stood adjacent to the bedroom, thatcould be reached by going through one of the two doors opposite the bed. The second door was locked.

After banging my fists against the hard wood until my hands went numb, I resigned back to the bed. My head felt too heavy on my shoulders, even though I had forced myself to wash my face, and even empty my stomach of any lurking bug. It appeared that I had already lost my freedom; I did not want to lose anything else, and that included my voice.

I did my best to not sink into the frantic panic that vibrated towards me through the stiff air. Eventually I came to the conclusion that there was little chance of anyone coming to answer me until it suited them. Thus going back to the bed for a while would do no harm. Indeed, it was not until the sky had turned a deep orange did my host arrive to free me from the prison he had placed me in.

The rattle of the key in its lock was the first sound of habitation within the castle I had heard all day. The disturbance startled me to my feet. Lord Kylo Ren emerged in front of the door, unchanged in the flesh when compared to my memory.

"You are up on your feet. Good. I was concerned that you would still be in bed asleep."

"Up on my... Of course I am up on my feet! I have been up on my feet all day, waiting for someone to come and unlock the door. You locked me in!"

"A necessary precaution." he said as he stepped further into the room, keeping to the shadows. "You were dreadfully ill last night. Do you not remember? I had to put you to bed in here. It was the best thing to do. The journey to town would have worsened your condition, and I did not want you getting up in a sick haze. That was why the door was locked. But... you are feeling well now, yes? After you have eaten, I shall take you home. You must be hungry. I did not think to bring you anything during the day. I thought you would still be resting."

I could hardly believe the words that flowed with such eloquence out of his beautiful mouth. The prospect of food was tempting; throughout the day it had become more and more difficult to ignore the knife of hunger splitting my insides. The chance for an explanation to why I had been left alone all day, especially if I had been as ill as Ren claimed, was calling me too. But another part of me, that was in greater tune with my sense survival, screamed out its warnings against the offer.

"That shall not be required. I am rested. I feel well. No other assistance is needed. None other than the horses and carriage. Or horse, if the carriage is too much of an inconvenience for you. I can ride, quite well, by myself."

"It isn't an inconvenience. Please, stay. Eat. I shall get you home. In good time."

Despite the efforts I had set in place to try and remain calm, I could feel my cheeks and the back of my neck turn a shade of red out of fury. I had never been listened to so thoroughly, only to have my wishes disregarded without a second thought. In my anger I managed to override the instincts that told me to stay away from my host, and found myself standing mere inches away from his face.

"You misunderstand, Lord Ren. I simply do not wish to spend another moment in this castle. Take me home. Now. Or I shall find a means to get there on my own."

In hindsight, it was foolish of me to act so bold. Although the laughter from Ren that followed my speech stung my ego then, now that I have come to learn what he is capable of I count myself lucky to only have been deflated. He agreed to see me home, on the condition that it was with him and in the carriage that we had arrived in.

“You would lose yourself in these woods, Governor Hux. I would not dare let you out in them alone. I could not bear to have that on my conscience.”

I had the journey home to muse over the meaning behind such a strange confession. I also took it upon myself to try and memorise the direction of the path, but my vision was compromised as clouds covered the moon. From my observations, it appeared that there was only one path from the castle to the town. Easy enough to navigate by myself, if I should ever need to. However, the haunting cries of the wolves soon put to rest the confidence I had mustered up within myself. They seemed nearer to me there, on that path, than they ever had in the town. But Ren was not phased.

“No harm shall come to you on this road, Governor. Not while you sit here with me. You are in no danger here.”

For reasons unknown to me, these words did not seem as ridiculous as they might have to others. In fact, I even found there to be a certain amount of comfort within them. Whether it was because of the nightmarish creatures I could imagine prowling in the dark, or because of my own unstable state of wellbeing due to a day of isolation, Lord Ren’s company was not entirely unpleasant.

The sounds of the night had steadily disappeared the closer we came to the town. By the time we reached Renfield the air was silent. Coming down from the direction of the mountains, I hardly recognised the shape of the familiar trees until the carriage had come to a stop.

"Go now, Hux. Enjoy your much waited for meal. We shall meet each other again soon. Do not worry about that."

It was only after this prompt that I saw that I was being dropped off in the same spot that I had been picked up the previous night. I jumped from the carriage, bowing my head in thanks to my host for the transportation. Though I did not want to admit it, he had been right to say that, without him, I would have been lost to that path.

I did not hear Ren pull the horses away as I walked back towards the town. But when I looked back behind me, upon reaching the turn in the path, he and his beasts had gone. The stillness of the air was suffocating. I found myself hurrying home, finding comfort in surroundings that I had never considered to ever bring me ease.

Once locked behind the safety of my own door, the keys being tucked away on the inside of my jacket pocket, I made myself a small meal, before retiring to my study. The relief I had been seeking from entering my favourite room did not come, although even now cannot confirm the reasons to why not. Everything was in the same state as I had left it in. My books were all in place on the shelves and floor; the papers I had left on my desk were there, untouched since yesterday, and yet the security that always came from this chaotic order was amiss.

A week passed, yet my anxieties did not disperse. I busied my days with work, seeing to the smaller duties that I had been neglecting. I visited everyone in town, questioned them about how they were feeling. My home no longer felt like home, and I could not place why. Renfield, although already queer, seemed changed. Things I had never noticed before crawled out of the white stones of the town all at once. People were quiet in their greetings to each other. Nobody ever seemed to speak above a whisper. Even the public house fell silent after the sun had gone down. Aside for myself, every person wore a crucifix around their neck, and kissed it on certain occasions. One being when someone's gaze had lingered too long over the mountains, which they then also crossed themselves for too. Yet a part of me knew that this had always been the way of the town.

The nights were worse. I could not avoid them simply through reading and making a considerable dent into my supply of coffee. Hardest as I tried, sleep could not be evaded. Nor could the dreams that came with it. My time spent asleep was haunted by the image of those two silver eyes, staring at me through the shadows, that had woken me at the castle. Only I could not wake myself away from them while in my own bed. During that time, I feared that I was losing my sanity. In the darkness of my bedroom that stare seemed to still penetrate me, even when I thought that my eyes were open.

I did not receive another invitation to join him for meal at his home until the end of that hellish week. It goes without saying that I had made up my mind already to never dine with his Lordship ever again. Not unless my presence at his table was of absolute necessity. Yet upon arrival of the letter, I found myself thinking furiously of a way to go back on my own word. I could not help but find Ren a most intriguing sort of man. There was also--dare I admit--something that I found quite charming about him. It was inevitably due to this cursed charm that I, in spite of what had happened, accepted the invitation to dine with him again then. However, eventually my meals at Castle Ren became a common occasion that happened at least once a month.

***

The glow of the fireplace danced in Ren's black hair as he sat beside me, having just cleared the table of the meal we had shared. I could no longer count the number of times that I had been in this position. He did not look up at me, even though I was certain that he could feel my gaze scrutinise him. I watched as light and shadow competed for the soft features of his face. The fire burned deep in his dark eyes, turning the brown of his irises red. Upon seeing this, I had to keep myself from making an embarrassing sound. But one escaped from my throat anyway. Although it was unmistakable that he had heard me, my host still did not turn his head to face me. Nevertheless, I distracted myself from my rising shame by flickering my attention to his lips. At this Ren leered, giving evidence to my theory that he was not simply pretending that I was not there. The fire caught the abnormal extension of his canines. I turned to the fire too, unsettled. There was something strange, that I could not quite place, about his teeth.

The atmosphere of the room shifted. Tension caressed my cheeks. Heavy food sat undigested in my gut, stretching the lining of my stomach. I leaned back in my chair, trying to get comfortable. Everything regarding the evening insisted that I should be content. The meal had been good, exquisite even. Conversation had flowed well, complementing the wine. The fireside was warm, and Ren was sitting there with me too. His hulking figure a mere outreach of the arm away. If I had so wished, I could have turned back to him, placed a hand on his cheek, and...

Nothing. Silence. Time passed. Time in which I allowed myself to be dragged further down by my unease. I put it down to nerves. A topic of a much needed conversation had stabbed my tongue all night. But I never did like to bring Ren news of the town. Previous conversations surrounding the Renfield--such as my questions to why my host always had his supplies delivered to him, rather than buy them himself in person--was met with dead ears. I was quickly given the impression that Ren disliked the town nearly as much as they disliked him, though no reason was apparent. The fire crackled, waiting.

"There is something I have been meaning to talk to you about, Ren." My voice sounded foreign, even to myself. I swallowed, watching Ren out of the corner of my eye. He sat, unmoved, still sneering at the fireplace. Wetting my lips, I tried to encourage the rest of the words to come. I could not help but notice the light catch the sharpened points of Ren's teeth. Teeth that sharp could surely pierce skin. Again my head spun. Thoughts of Ren pulling-- _biting_ \--my bottom lip swirled around my brain. "About the town... About what is currently happening within the town."

"Oh? Aren't you doing your job well," Ren replied, twisting his body in my direction. "Showing concern for your townspeople. But I do not understand why you would think that your concern is something that I would care about. Please, elaborate. I am interested in your thought process."

I clenched my jaw. Ren's response had not surprised me. Anything about Renfield was not deemed worthy of his time. Nonetheless, his reaction was still a personal blow to me and the town. "This isn't some game of logic," I said, disgusted. "I am not sitting here, telling you this, so that you can second guess the reasons of my emotions. The bottom line is that people are frightened. Myself included."

At this Ren stirred; dragging his seat across the stone floor so close that his nose almost touched my ear. My confession to my own fear had been a mistake. I could have sworn that I felt Ren smiling, with those awful teeth, as he spoke. "You, frightened? Ooh, Hux... Is that what you wish to talk about? You have no one else to confide in about your fears? No one else to share with? I take it there have been no recent deliveries from the rest of the world."

"People are disappearing, Ren," I said. My neck snapped from the speed used to face him. "I understand that disappearances here are not rare. In fact, Renfield has the highest rate of disappearances that I have ever known. People leave. Sometimes they come back. But there are children disappearing, Ren. Children in the middle of the night. From their beds."

Ren did not so much as blink. "I never thought of you as the sort to care much about children."

I wavered, making the mistake of looking at his mouth. It was pulled back into a grin. "Their parents are loud," I said, inhaling the inebriating scents of Ren's clothes. An elegant fragrance rose from them and clung to the inside of my nose. I inhaled deeper, catching the finer scent of damp, and something else. Dirt?

Ren smirked. The glint of his teeth distracting me enough to not notice the slender hand that settled on my right knee. "Well, I hope you cannot hear them here. So their children are running away from them during the night. That is a reflection of their bad parenting, no? I fail to grasp how that is your issue."

"Children that run away are usually found," I replied, my eyes dropping for a moment to the white hand that touched me. A layer of goosebumps protruded down my leg. Ren's stare did not leave my face. "The issues of parents, within in the town that I govern, are my also my issues. Or did you not get as far to think about that? Who do you think they'll blame? Themselves? _Ha!_ "

"So dedicated to your job, Hux. That is... admirable." The tips of Ren's cold fingers grazed up my thigh, shooting shivers through my bones. "But you are too good for them. Did you know that? They do not deserve to have a man like you, Hux. Not if they are not willing to see their own mistakes. Not if they are willing to pin the consequences of their mistakes onto you. The fact that you are here proves to me that you are better than them. If I were you, I would not think of these people worthy of my time. "

Ren's voice had become low. So low I had been forced to lean in to hear the honey that dripped from his words. Oh how I was tempted to lick up the sweet substance and believe it all to be true. After all, I had to admit, some of it was. In that moment I feared that my dedication to Renfield would be my downfall. Coming to the castle, in the hopes of asking Ren for his assistance, had taken more bravery than I liked to admit, and it took more bravery, still, to ignore the direction of his hand. Of course, by now I had gathered enough experience of Ren to know that his behaviour was unpredictable. Yet this was the first time he had ever touched me for so long without interruption.

However, during that moment, none of these thoughts came to me in full. Ren's fingers squeezed the outside of my thigh. The point of his sharpened nails dug past the fabric of my trousers, while his thumb made a slow circular journey around the inside of my thigh. I could feel the strength behind his hand. It was unnatural. I caught myself trying to justify the cause of such strength by studying the unmistakable toned shape of Ren's arms under well fitted black sleeves. Wine soaked blood half swelled what sat between my legs.

"Regardless of whether or not that is true," I replied, doing my best to focus my thoughts. "In times like this they will be looking towards their leader." My voice betrayed my attempts of concentration.

"And you consider yourself to be that leader? The answer to all their problems?" At these last words, I watched as amusement crawled into the corners of Ren's mouth. It disappeared as he leaned in closer to me; his entire hand slipping down, without shame, to the inside of my leg. "See? I was right. You are far too good for them."

I knew that he was mocking me, yet I could not bring myself to argue against him. Shadow had won in the casting Ren's face. The light from the fire had died to nothing more than an orange afterglow. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Then I felt the pressure of Ren's fingers move rhythmically against my leg; as if to coax out of me what would not come.

"I..." I began, eyes downcast. There was no doubt that the heat of my groin could be felt by his hand. "I..." I tried again, my mind swimming around in its own stunned disbelief. A distinct form of yearning coursed through my body. In that moment I knew that it would be hopeless to raise my head to face Ren again. My mouth had already hung open for too long, and my erection stretched the front of my trousers. Ready to give in to my humiliation, I closed my eyes. The nauseating need that I had for the distance between us to cease flushed across my face.

"You need rest."

The weight of Ren's hand disappeared with his words. Disappointment flooded my senses. I frowned into the remains of the fire. I did not wish to think about what I had expected. What I had longed for.

"Excuse me?" I asked, bitterness spilling into my voice. I knew that Ren had heard it.

"You are tired and you need your rest. Please, know that you are welcome to stay here. In fact, I must insist. The night is dark and filled with dangerous things. It would not do for you to go missing. What would the people of Renfield do then?"

The shadows of the room disguised my scowl. Of course Ren was right. On the late night journeys, even when he had accompanied back to Renfield, I had had first-hand experience of some of the horrors that lay waiting in the dark. I do not know whether it was a phenomenon unique to Renfield, but the wolves that surrounded the town took on a different form after the sun had gone down. The prospect of coming up against them that night, even with Ren by my side, filled me with enough fear to agree to stay.

***

The bedroom Ren escorted me to was far finer than the one I had woken up in all those months ago. The mattress welcomed the weight of my body like a mother embracing her first born child. The pillows were soft and gave just the right amount of support for my neck. The bed itself was large enough for more than two bodies, and built out of expensive wood. The flickering light of the fire--which Ren had been so kind to light before leaving me for the night--illuminated the slick curves of the carved flowers and leaves inside its frame. Alas, despite my comfortable surroundings, and wish to give in to the lure of sweet sleep, another desire tempted my thoughts.

What had happened downstairs, at Ren's great dining table, repeated itself without permission through my head. Or rather, what had not happened. What I knew I had _wanted_ to happen. The image of Ren's red mouth flashed across my eyes: the stretch of his lips; the glisten of his teeth. The skin of my right thigh, where Ren had so easily placed his hand, prickled with the memory of his touch. I cursed under my breath. Beneath the thin sheets of my borrowed bed, I felt a twinge of pleasure surge between my legs. I groaned, closing my eyes. I was alone.

The sheets rustled only a little as I slowly lowered my hand beneath them. Old familiarity guided my actions as I traced the outline of my stiffening cock with the tips of my fingers, encouraging the redirection of blood. I had been sitting on the sofa in my apartment in London the last time I had given in to such an indulgence. Though then the cause of my desire had not been so repulsively arrogant... nor had I been alone.

The darkness made it easier for me to imagine all the sticky sweet words that would have emerged from Ren's mouth if he had been lying beside me. Dirty whispers that would have had a way of feeding my ego whilst simultaneously insulting it. I groaned again, at last breaching the waistband of my night trousers. The appearance of plump lips, curled at the corners, took forefront in my mind. My body burned for the space beside me to be filled with Ren's giant frame; his mouth ghosting against my ear; my aching cock weeping in one of his large hands.

It was just as my hand was about to clasp around the engorged flesh of my erection when I heard it. Three distinct taps against glass. My hand shot up above the blankets, and I opened my eyes. Turning my head to the direction of the sound, I tried to distinguish whether or not I had actually heard it. Evidently, the light that had come from the fireplace had died during my previous tortured musings. The room had at last given in to the air of night, which sank with ease into every corner.

I sat up. A chill run between my shoulders. Without the warmth of the fire, the room had grown cold. Sitting still, with the blankets bunched at my waist, I noticed a soft breeze grace the length of my right arm. Frustration buzzed through my raised hairs down to my nerve endings. Of course Ren would have neglected to close the window after, I assumed, airing the room out for my possible stay. I crossed my arms against my chest, shivering before climbing out of the safe warmth of the bed. My cock was now soft.

The iced floor bit the bottom of my feet. I was about halfway to the window, guarded by a heavy curtain, when a thought stopped me in my tracks. The tapping had almost certainly come from the window. If I were to close it, and shut out the cold, I risked seeing whatever awful thing lurked outside the thick castle walls. I shook my head, ridding myself of the hesitation that had unlawfully penetrated my bones. Reason flowed back to mind. We had walked up more than one flight of stairs to reach this room. It was ridiculous to think that anything could so much as reach the window, let alone tap at its glass. Besides, with the window open it was possible that the wind had simply been the cause of the sound. It was much more likely that it had been my mind--manipulated by unsound emotions--that had twisted the noise to be something that it was not.

Satisfied with these explanations, I continued my short path to the window. Brilliant moonlight flooded into the bedroom as I pulled back the curtains. I had been right in my estimate of how high my window was from the ground. A tremendous amount of wonder overcame me when I realised that the room Ren had prepared for me was one that overlooked the sea. The odd smell, that had taken home in my nostrils upon first entering the bedroom, was suddenly explained. Out of impulsive bravery--fed by the conclusion of one mystery--I leaned out the window, and viewed the steep wall of the castle and cliff edge that fell below. Then, when satisfied by the impossibilities that came from being in such a setting, I moved to shut the window. However, I was unable to complete the simple task.

At first I did not I trust my eyes, for what I saw could not have had any scientific grounding. Within the reflected rays of moonlight, specks of silver dust collected into smouldering clusters. I watched with a sense of forbidden soothing. The beauty, in the shaping of the different dusty constellations, calmed the worries that had so recently taken hold of me. I leaned forward, so as to be in a more comfortable position, my arms dangling from the window.

I cannot recall how long I sat there. But I can say, with much certainty, that I would have lost myself to those mystic clouds if my hypnosis had not been interrupted by a terrible screech. I fell back from the window, dazed, landing on the floor beside the bed. My mind scrambled to try and place what sort of creature could have made such an inhumane sound. The dust continued to swirl. Closer and closer it came, threatening to pass over the threshold of the windowsill. It was then that I heard a heavy bang against wood. Ready to scream, I twisted my head towards the door, which had swung open. Inside its frame stood a large figure, a bundle of something in its hands. Terror sank its teeth deeper into my senses. Tears threatened to escape the corners of my eyes. It was only when the figure spoke did I recognise it to be Ren.

"The castle grows cold at night when the fires go out. I thought you might have been in need of another blanket. Hux... Why are you on the floor? What happened?"

"Of course it gets cold if you do not bother to close the windows!" I said, pointing to the frame. It took all my energy not to sob. "Did you not think to do that before leaving me in here? Perhaps after lighting that fire you knew would eventually die out?"

I watched as Ren crossed the room towards me, depositing what he had been carrying onto the bed as he did. "You're shivering," he said, his huge form blocking the sight of the window as he knelt in front of me. I pushed away his hands.

"Well what do you expect? The window is still open."

"The window..." He repeated in a whisper. Then, in one fluid motion, stood up straight again. My eyes went wide as he swept towards the window.

"Be careful!" The volume of my voice shocked even myself. "There... there's something out there. Though I... I don't know what."

Ren paused as he reached the opening. The night sky went well with his complexion. He looked at me over his shoulder, his expression blank. Without a word, the window was closed.

"Now that that is done," Ren said as he closed the curtains too, enveloping us in darkness.  "Perhaps I can convince you to get back into bed." The edge in Ren's voice appeared to be vacant. I had become so accustomed to hearing it that I did not know what to make of my host's words without it.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. The tread of his soft step echoed towards my ears. I scratched my nails across the floor, clenching my fists. Ren was above me again; his feet knocked against my outstretched legs. "Get into bed, Hux. I would hate for you to come down with a cold from sitting there all night, or become stiff."

The air was thick with Ren's perfume as he knelt before me again. It blotched my nostrils, yet I could not help but inhale. My heart pounded against my ribs. Raising my head, all I could see of Ren was the outline of his body. His arms came towards me, and this time I did not push them away. They slipped under my shoulders, pulling me towards his chest before lifting me from the floor. The entire transition was performed with effortlessness.

It was out of instinct that I wrapped my arms around Ren's neck. But it was out of tragic need that I pressed my body closer to his toned chest. I gasped. He was cold. So cold. But there was nothing I could do about it, for I was cold too. Despite my feet still being able to reach the floor, I took further advantage of my powerlessness by I burying my face into Ren’s shoulder. All the while ignoring the tenting of my trousers.

"Are you going to put me to bed?" I asked, voice muffled by Ren's collar. He had not changed from the clothes he had worn at dinner.

"If you are incapable of doing it yourself."

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I turned my head, our cheeks brushing against each other. "Ren..." I gulped, though I was not granted the opportunity to finish my thought.

I grunted at the force in which my back met the mattress. Before I was given the chance to grasp what had happened, I felt the bed below me sink with the added weight of Ren. My legs parted as he pushed between them, his great heaviness coming down on top of me. I moaned, dragging my hands up his back to his shoulders. Friction burned the tips of my fingers. I shoved Ren closer to me, my hips thrusting forward. My entire body ached to be consumed.

In my ear Ren laughed. "Eager, aren't we?" he said, gripping the back of my hair and pulling it to expose my neck. My own hold on him loosened. There was no way in hell that I could have kept up with the power that he exerted upon me. "I can only imagine for how long you've wanted this," he continued, bringing his face down to mine. I saw the lust in his eyes. "Don't worry, I've wanted it too. I just did not know whether I..." His eyes fell to my lips, open and desperate to kiss him. "...whether I should have made the first move." His thumb and forefinger came to hold my chin. "I'm glad I waited for you to make up my mind."

The knowledge that I had not been alone in my attraction--that I had, in fact, been desired by one so damnably beautiful as Lord Kylo Ren--went straight to my cock. It throbbed against his leg, while he swallowed my moans with his perfect mouth. I closed my eyes, racing my hands to the back of his head. My fingers ran through his voluptuous hair, wishing to make an even bigger mess of it than it already was.

Ren's lips were overwhelming against my own. Within in seconds his tongue had forced its way into my mouth, tackling my own with superior skill and expertise. I tightened my grip in his hair, unafraid to pull at the thick locks to even out the pace. Kissing open-mouthed allowed for Ren's sharp teeth to dent my upper lip. I became frantic. My cock pulsated, still inside the cursed safety of my bed clothes. I lunged my hips forward, beyond desperate for the friction offered by Ren's muscular abdomen. I felt as though I would I would die if I were not granted release.

Ren withdrew his tongue from my mouth to chuckle against it. Frowning, I opened my eyes. I was about to criticise him for his poor choice of behaviour when his mouth smothered mine again. I groaned, my head falling back against the pillow. Ren pulled away, the skin of my lips still between his teeth. I felt the tear of flesh.

"Jesus Christ, Ren!" I said, rolling my head away from him. The distribution of weight in the bed changed as he sat back. Warm liquid pooled onto the ends of my fingers as I inspected my lips. I looked back up at him, my hand still protective over my mouth. Even in the dark I saw the wet of my blood on his mouth. In the darkness it was black. "I'm bleeding."

"Yes," Ren said, unblinking. "You are."

"Well," I said, taking his face in both my hands. "Do not let it stop you."

I do not know what demon it was that possessed me to speak such words. Whatever it was, I am certain that it was fed by the hunger that flashed within Ren's eyes. He did not have to be told twice. Our mouths crashed together again, knocking teeth. Ren grunted into my open mouth. It took me a moment to realise that he was licking up my blood. I had no time to protest as Ren's hands were busied in ridding us both of our trousers.

All at once I felt Ren seize my erection with one great hand. He held it with his own, and I am not ashamed to admit the exhilaration that rushed through my blood as I felt the size of him. There was no need for added spit. Enough semen had already drizzled free from both our cocks, which sufficed as lubricant. It was with some sloppiness that Ren jerked us off together, his mouth suffocating my moans.

We came together too. Fast. I heaved at my ejaculation, my hips suspended from the bed. Ren sucked on my neck. The light of dawn, of a new day, was sure to reveal a number of marks upon my pale skin.

Once he was spent, my host rolled off of me. Almost immediately I curled back into his side. There would be time to wash ourselves off tomorrow, I reasoned. Besides, I had waited far too long to have Ren in my bed. Without question or hesitation, he put his arms around me. Neither of us said a word.

It was at some unknown point in the night, when my eyes exceeding with sleep, that I managed to drag the blanket Ren had brought to me over us both. As I did, I found it impossible to judge my state of wake. The reason being, just before I fell back into the land of sleep, I was almost certain I had born witness to something that could not have possibly made sense. The mesmerising swirls of dust, that had been outside the castle window, had appeared to congeal in the furthest corner of the room. For a moment I considered waking Ren up, to ask him whether he could see them too. But I eventually decided against it. After all, the last thing I wanted was to do was risk my chance of sleeping soundly beside my host for the rest of the night. I fell back beside Ren, turning on my side to face away from the tricks my mind was playing. It was not long until I too was lost to the night.

[](http://bottomgeneralhux.tumblr.com/post/148848791166/letmeputitinyourbutt-commission-for)          [](http://bottomgeneralhux.tumblr.com/post/147412494356/it-was-at-some-unknown-point-in-the-night-when-my)


	2. Part 1 Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Finn and Slip are 16 when they have their first sexual encounter. I am aware that this is not the age of sexual consent in some countries and this is why I have added the warning. This is the only reason for the warning.
> 
> If you only wish to read the chapters of this fic from the POV of Finn (and soon to be Poe), and avoid reading the POV of Hux and Kylo Ren, the POV of each chapter are as follows*: 
> 
> Part 1 Chapter 1: Hux  
> Part 1 Chapter 2: Finn  
> Part 1 Chapter 3: Hux (Finn is present near the end of the chapter.)
> 
> *this list shall be added to, and it shall be added to on this page here.

My grandmother used to tell me stories before I went to bed. Or rather, I used to beg my grandmother to tell me her stories before I went to bed. My grandmother was still a child when her parents first moved to Renfield and she lived here until she died, which was a while ago. During that time she collected plenty of stories and she shared them all with me.

The stories she told me were about the town: the history and superstitions of Renfield. Myths mixed in with facts. She knew a lot about the about the family founded the town. They lived in a castle in the mountains, and she tutored their daughter. But it was not their stories I wanted to hear about. The stories I wanted to hear often resulted in me squeezing between my mum and dad in their bed and crying because I was afraid of what was in the dark.

Despite the fear they brought, those were still my favourite stories. The stories about the wolves that surrounded all of Renfield, and would hunt down any children that travelled off too far. The stories about the other beasts, with glistening eyes and sharp teeth, that roamed the forest that covered the mountains, and could only be seen in the light of a full moon. The stories about the terrible presence that she felt whenever she was in the castle, and the shadows that followed her from room to room. The stories about the creatures with wide red eyes that would wait outside your window, waiting to be invited in.

But they were all only stories. Each new morning, when the sun rose and poured light into my parent's bedroom, I was assured with the satisfaction of knowing that that's all they were. It wasn't until I was a little older--when the conversations in the playground about our favourite games and hobbies outside of school, turned to tales of superstition--did I learn that the stories my grandmother told me were told to every child.

My grandmother died before my parents did. She was old, they were not. The last moments we spent together weren't spectacular or particularly special. She had been unwell for a few weeks, unable to get up from her bed without being in pain. Her ankles had swollen purple, and it had been my duty to massage them each morning and evening to help relieve them. The night she died I had been feeling a little hard done by because I had missed playing outside with my friends for an extra ten minutes. We were never allowed to play outside past sunset, and because the trees had turned orange night came faster every evening.

When I finished my task I stood by her bedside, ready to say goodnight like I had done every night since I could remember. She had been dropping in and out of sleep the entire time, mumbling words that I could not hear. It was as I leaned forward to kiss her warm wrinkled cheek, that was far too hot due to her fever, she opened her eyes and took hold of both my hands.

"You're a good boy, Finn," she said, her smile reaching her brown eyes. My mother always commented on how we shared the same eyes and smile. "Thank you for rubbing my sore old feet."

"I love you, grandma," I said.

"And I love you. Goodnight, and God bless."

Those were her last words to me. The same as every night. Once she released my hands, I went off to bed. Stories had stopped being told as soon as she got sick. The next morning, my mother went into my grandmother and found that she had passed.

At least there was comfort in knowing that my grandmother had died peacefully in her sleep; that there was a had a body to bury; that there was time to mourn her passing. One evening my father never came home from work. My mother huffed over the fire, tired of waiting for him to return. She had been hunched over a large pot, that sat on top of the flames, the majority of the evening, preparing dinner for us all. It was supposed to be a treat, everyone eating at the same time together. The loss of my grandmother still loomed in the dusty air, even though four years had passed. Since her death, nothing had ever felt the same. After telling me to go to bed once I had finished my plate and washed up, my mother left our home through the front door in search for my father. I never saw her again.

What was recovered of my parents’ bodies was too horrific for any child to see. Their funerals were short. I remember standing by their graves, wearing my Sunday best. They had been buried before the service had started. Their names were amongst the list of many who had been found dead. To be honest, I don't really remember much else about their funeral or what my life had been like with them.

***

All the children who had lost their parents were moved into a home together. That's how I met Slip. We shared a room. Our bedroom was at the furthest corner of the house, and could only be reached by going down a small staircase at the end of a narrow corridor. Having once been the top half of the house’s old stables, our room had not originally been attached to the main building. The roof slanted above both our beds, which had been pushed against the walls either side of the door. There was no more than a foot between them, and only enough space for one bedside table. A thin-glass window was set in the wall above it, serving as the only source of natural light. I remember clearly how cold our room would get during the winter, and that Slip and I would often share a bed for heat. No one ever came up to check on us, despite our bedroom being the best place in the entire house to watch the sunset.

One evening, when Slip and I were both fourteen years old, we stood squashed together looking out of the round window to see the last rays of sunlight bleed into the clouds as it disappeared behind the mountains. People had stopped going up into them by that point; there was no longer any purpose to. The family, who had lived in the castle and employed over half the town, had disappeared. A steady trickle of rumours had had more than enough time to spread into the cracks of Renfield, building reason to why both the castle and the mountains were to be avoided.

"What do you think happened to them?" Slip asked for what was probably the hundredth time. He brushed against my arm as he pressed his nose against the cold glass of the window. Neither of us was yet used to the lankiness of our growing bodies, nor the sudden increase in space that we were each beginning to take up.

Conversation surrounding the disappearance of the Organa family had never worn thin. Slip and I had plenty of our own theories as to why it had happened to them. Two years was plenty of time for us to develop and ground them, and new tales--that were always spun from the playground--helped keep our imaginations fresh.

I risked a glance at Slip. The orange aftermath of the day glowed against his light brown skin. My heart jittered for reasons I was too afraid to understand. "I do not know," I said, quickly turning away from him and the view. It felt like there were heavy stones at the bottom of my stomach. I sat down on my bed, hoping to distract the weight of my nerves by being in a different position. "My grandmother used to work there at one point. I could bet that she could have told us why."

Nearly knocking the gaslamp, on the bedside table, to the floor, Slip spun around on his feet. He looked at me with wide eyes, a dangerous smile playing in the corners of his lips. I knew that expression. The last time I had seen it had only been the week before; right after hearing the news that the Governor's second son was leaving the town to go to university in London and coming to the conclusion that there was actually a way out of Renfield if we ever wanted to take it. It was the manifestation of pure excitement and wonderment.

"You’ve never shared that with me before!" Slip said, his voice lifting to a higher pitch in the middle of his words. "How could you have never have shared that with me before? What did she work as?"

"She was a tutor for their daughter, I think." I chewed my bottom lip. My cheeks burned. "I don't remember much. It was a long time ago."

Slip sat down on his bed opposite me. His expression was unchanged. "That's remarkable. Did she ever tell you anything about them?" The exhilaration in his green eyes made me want to weep.

"A little. She used to tell me lots of stories, about the castle and the woods. I don’t really remember them... I was very young when she died." Slip frowned and I paused. "But I remember that they used to scare me," I said, my speech quick. "She told me that the castle was haunted by something. Something that only came out at night. She didn’t like coming home once the sun had set, I remember. But she preferred to come home than spend the night if she had to leave after it had."

Interest poured back into Slip's face. He nodded at every other word. "I heard that too," he said, his voice taking on a superior tone. "My father used to take them their bread and cakes. He didn’t like to leave the wagon alone while he was up there. I went with him once..." Slip trailed off.I swallowed down the lump that had formed in my throat. Knowing better than to press him for more, I fell back onto my mattress. It creaked in protest, though I had my own complaints with it too. My feet came near to dangling off the end of the old thing if I did not sleep in a ball.

"We should probably go to bed," I said, attempting to chase away the silence that had trickled into the spaces around us. "Sister Olivia is on duty tonight. She might come up to us."

It wasn’t likely. Everyone knew that Sister Olivia liked to drink during her night shifts, and spent most of her time sitting on a stall in the kitchen with a bottle of “borrowed” wine. By the time the hour came to check on all the children--to make sure that they were all at least in bed, if not soundly asleep--she could rarely make it up the first flight of stairs. Regardless of this shared knowledge, Slip got up from his bed to strip down to his underwear. There was a striking difference in temperature of the room in summer compared to winter. So much so that there was no need for sleeping clothes during hot summer nights. My eyes--with a will of their own--followed the curve of his lower back as he rolled into bed, turning to face the wall. I had already dressed for bed, preferring to wear a night shirt over my underwear.

I do not recall sleep coming to me that night. My concentration had remained on Slip; watching as he shuffled in his bed until he lay on his back, his arms sprawled above his head. But sleep did come, regardless of my memory to it. Or at least it must have done, because the only other thing I remember of that night is waking up to the soft sound of sobbing coming from the bed beside me.

The room had gone black. Not even the glow of our lamp complimented the darkness as neither of us had thought to light it. The rest of the house had become devoid of almost all sounds of life too; the one exception being the crumbled snoring of someone, somewhere, below us, cruising through the tight air.

Without thinking too much about it, I crept up and crossed the threshold between our bunks. The sobbing stopped. It was replaced by the creak of Slip's bed as he shuffled towards the wall. I climbed in beside him,  trying to keep my breathing even. This was something neither of us had dared repeat since reaching our teen years. Yet almost at once I was welcomed by the warmth of Slip's arms as he wrapped them around my middle; his forehead pushing into the crook of my neck.

It was not until I was sixteen years of age when I was finally ready to admit that the feelings I had towards him were more than just brotherly. That they had, in fact, never been bounded in brotherly bonds at all.

Despite the odds it seemed to face every year, Springtime managed to pierce the veil of winter once again. Slip and I were on our way home from town. We had been sent on the errand to pay the butcher’s for the meat that had been purchased earlier in the week. All debt had to be settled before we were allowed to come back home.

The cold light of the sun did nothing to warm our journey, though that did not stop it from shining bright in our eyes. Slip was a few paces ahead of me, kicking stones along the narrow path on which we walked. We had argued over something, the topic of which I do not remember, before turning onto the lane.

We had each opted for silence as a means for our quarrel to be resolved. I kept my eyes on the ground, it's surface was hard from the cold. Along the narrow roadside daffodils had started to grow their golden crowns. I stopped to gaze at them, contemplating whether to pluck some from the earth and take them home. Although we had not been sent to collect anything, it would be a shame to return empty handed. Besides Sister Judith had such a fondness for cheerful flowers. My fingers were curled round a chosen stem when a heavy thud up ahead broke my tranquillity.

On their own accord, my feet ran to the source of distress before my eyes even had time to focus on the path up ahead. I stopped short behind Slip, who was on the ground with one leg caught beneath him. His arms were outstretched before him, presumably to catch himself from the fall, and the starch-fabric of his trouser legs were torn. My heart beat far faster than was necessary for such a short sprint. However, concern quickly conquered my hesitation. I bent over him, linking my arms beneath his shoulders.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

The pulse of my heart was ferocious against my chest. Slip shrugged me off, panting in frustration. It appeared that his anger at me had not subsided.

"You have two working eyes; didn’t you see what happened?"

I pulled away, holding my hands out as a way to offer my surrender. Yet my actions proved worthless as Slip did not look up to register my defeat. I watched, feeling helpless, as he tried and failed to regain his balance. There was no obvious reason to why it proved so difficult for him, other than perhaps the shock of the fall.

"I didn’t see," I said, attempting to present a truce in a soft voice. "I was looking at the flowers. I thought I would pick some and bring them home... I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"

"A little," Slip sighed, confessing to his own feebleness by collapsing onto his front. I was about to reach out for him when he rolled onto his back and pushed himself into a shaky sitting position. "I'm bleeding," he commented, running a finger through the stiff blood that had collected around his knees. I sat down with him, taking his hand in mine to pull it away from the small wound.

"Don't do that, you'll get it dirty," I said, his fingers still in my gentle grip before I released them. My eyes fell to the cuts, certain that the blood made them look far worse than they actually were.

"I'm going to get into so much trouble," Slip said, his bitter laugh broken by a choked sob. "This is the third piece of clothing that I've ripped this month. Mother Superior Margaret is going to kill me."

I sucked my bottom lip, pretending not see the tears that swelled in the corners of Slip's eyes. It was true that he had torn more clothes than anyone else in the house, and that Mother Superior Margaret had threatened to punish him if he continued to do so. Of course this was completely unfair as Slip could not help the fact that accidents were drawn to him. With a frown I studied his scuffed knees and the fray's of fabric that circled them.

"No she won't," I said, though I knew that I sounded less than convincing. I got to my feet, hoping that movement would distract Slip from whatever impending doom waited for him at home. “Come on.”

Slip sniffed, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. Eventually he nodded. He knew, as well as I did, that it would be much better for him to return home and face Mother Superior Margret head on, rather than try to avoid her. He put out his hands and I took them, helping him to his feet. He groaned, no doubt feeling a sting in his legs from bending them. His fingers were freezing compared to mine.

"You're cold," I said once we were both standing up straight. I tightened my grip around his hands, afraid that he would withdraw them from me. But he didn’t.

Slip shrugged, not meeting my eyes. "It's cold," he said. "Or did you not notice that either?"

I blinked, unsure of what to make of his words. Instinct told me to let go and start walking home, but what would that do for Slip's half frozen hands?

"Here."

Without thinking, I guided his hands under my armpits. A new warmth surged through my body; a vibrant heat that sparked at the bottom of my belly and rose through my torso towards my cheeks. Slip's face mirrored my alarm; though I knew that for whatever reasons he felt unease they were different from my own.

"What... what are you doing?"

Exhilaration drove itself through my veins, clinging onto my bloodstream. I lowered my eyes, praying that Slip could not feel my pulse beneath his beautiful hands.

"Warming you up," I said, as if the answer really were that simple. I could hardly speak.

"Doesn’t it bother to you?"

I shook my head, afraid to ask for any clarification of his question. In that moment, I could not think of a single reason to be bothered by Slip and the placement of his hands. I closed my eyes, not wishing to bear witness to what I was about to do.

Slip's cheek was cold against my lips; colder than his hands which trembled under my arms. He flinched as I kissed him, hauling away from me. The loss of his hold was almost more than I could handle. I opened my eyes, ready to beg for either the return of his hands or for forgiveness, only to see him wipe the place I had kissed him with the back of his hand. Guilt burrowed a home deep inside my gut.

"What kind of game are you playing now?" Slip asked. I could not distinguish whether the tremble of his voice was out of anger or sheer confusion. "If you were trying to kiss me better, you're supposed to kiss the cuts!" He gave an unsteady laugh, turning away from me to stride back up the path. "We better get home. I think there is still some cake left that Sister Judith baked for Zeros' birthday. We might be able to have some... if... if we aren't late."

"Wait, Slip. Wait!" I called after him, nearly tripping over my feet to catch up. I surpassed the urge to grab his arm when I reached him, instead I willed my legs to stay in pace with his. It also served as a distraction to that panic that rose in my throat. "You're not... Slip you won't... you won't tell anyone, will you?"

Slip didn’t reply. The remainder of our walk home was spent in silence. My need to seize Slip's arm, and demand an answer from him, decreased with every step we took. By the time we had reached the house, and crossed the threshold of the front door, it had disappeared completely only to be replaced by an anxiety that took over every inch of my body. I was rendered useless the rest of the day, something no one other than Slip--who, in the end, was not punished for his split trousers--noticed.

The grey skies of spring had dissolved into the storm clouds of summer before either of us found the courage to speak about what had happened. Just as the trees shed their pink blossom, Slip and I had come to act as though nothing had bloomed between us. It became easier the more time that passed. And despite the countless nights I woke from dreaming of Slip's soft cheek against my lips, I knew better than to try and recreate the scene in person.

It was to be our last summer at that house, thus much of our talk had turned to what plans we had for the future. There was a girl in town that Slip had taken a fancy to. Her name was Lydia Harris, and I do not remember a single hot summer evening where her name did not dominate Slip and I's conversation.

"Do you think she would ever consider marrying someone like me?"

Sweat seeped down my face. I sighed, rolling my eyes at the question, as I turned my head to face Slip. Across from me he lay, a melted mess, on top of his own bed. The summer heat was unseasonable, and even though the sun had long gone down neither of us felt the need to sleep under our sheets.

"How would I know, Slip?" I said, looking back to bumps in the ceiling. I cannot recall the number of times Slip had asked me that question in that evening alone. My reply was beginning to feel overused, in spite of my certainty that Slip was not listening to it anyway. "The only way to find out would be to ask her. Are you considering doing that?"

The screech of an owl passed by our window, filling the absence of Slip's reply. The calls of the night were common to us by now, but they weren’t what I wanted to hear. Not that I wanted to hear Slip's answer either, knowing full well that if he were thinking of ways to ask for Lydia Harris' hand I would be obliged to listen to them all: an exercise that would produce in me nothing but a feeling of inadequacy. I risked another glance in Slip's direction, his silence feeding my regret, only to see that he had turned onto his side and was staring straight at me.

"Would you be jealous?"

My heart lunged into my throat. Feigning a laugh my eyes shot back up to the ceiling. "Why...? Why would I be jealous?"

"Finn..."

The sound of my name was followed by the creak of a floorboard. Before I could protest the mattress of my bed sunk, letting out a defeated wail, as Slip lay next to me. Acting out of a mixture of memory and instinct I moved onto my side, my back pressed against the slanted wall. Our beds had long become far too small to even fit just one of us. I inhaled through my nose as Slip's long limbs found their way around me. His fingers brushed against my cheek.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my eyes following his thumb as he ran it over my bottom lip.

Slip lifted my chin, the tip of his thumb remaining on my lips. "Remember, at the beginning of spring, when you kissed me?"

Convinced that I was in a dream, I lowered my eyes and nodded. "Yes."

"I never told anyone. You know that, don't you? Not a single person."

"I asked you not to... I hoped... I hoped that you wouldn't."

"I could have done; you know that too? I had plenty of opportunities to, but I..." Slip shook his head, moving his hands to cup my face. I could see the pain in his eyes. "I... I'm at a loss of what to do. We’re friends, Finn, you and I. You are my greatest friend. I don’t know where I would be without you, and... and I love you. I love you because.... well, because you’re my friend."

"I love you too, Slip." My voice was no more than a whisper.

Slip's fingers trembled against my cheeks. "What are we going to do? Soon we’ll be leaving this place, and I haven't the faintest idea of what to do.  You'll stay with me, won't you? I mean... we’ll stay together?"

"I... I would like for us to stay together."

"Finn..."

My heart had fluttered each time Slip had spoken my name. However, it almost came to a complete stop when the pronunciation of it was followed by the press of Slip's lips against my own. My entire body tensed, and for a fragment of a second I forgot to breathe. Upon sensing my hesitancy, Slip stopped; pulling his mouth away only to brush our noses together. His eyes were closed.

"Finn?"

I closed my eyes, rejoining our lips. Slip opened his mouth, welcoming me with his tongue. Currents of excitement surged down my spine. We rolled closer together, my body finding its way on top of his. Fevered fingers followed the jolted lines that had waved through my back. Slip gasped, bucking his hips. I buried my head into his neck, my cheeks burning, as I realised that his body was in a similar state of exhilaration compared to mine.

The drum of my heart pounded in my ears. Every inhalation of breath immersed me with all of Slip's aromas. I breathed them in, greedy from exhilaration and encouraged by our shared desire. The smell his neck was a mixture of perspiration and a faint twinge of the lavender soap we used in the shower. I kissed it, daring to waver my tongue along areas of skin beaded by sweat. My nose nudged behind his ear, which held the faded scent of summer grass, and Slip's fingers curled tight around my waist. He thrust his hips again, wrapping the back of my thighs with his legs.

"Finn... oh god. _Finn_. Please... don't... don't leave me. Please, god, don't leave me."

"I'm right here..."

I kissed Slip's earlobe, hoping it would be enough of an assurance. He whimpered, pushing my body closer to his. The rub of my underwear almost burned against my erection. Gasping into Slip's ear, I finally gave in to my yearning and ground our hips together. The bed squeaked against the wall. The possibility of us making too much noise never crossed either of our minds. Slip's hands gripped my buttocks, giving direction to my frantic thrusts.

It was I who tipped first over the narrow edge of elation. We had both become so desperate, it came as no shock that we could not last for long. I shuddered in Slip's arms, shame and guilt riding alongside my orgasm with me. Slip groaned, his hips rising from the sheets to join me in my bliss.

I could have sworn that he spoke my name as he came, though I have always been too afraid to ask. Once finished the adrenaline wore off and weakness caught up with my arms. They gave way beneath me, causing me to collapse on top of Slip. Despite the heat, we rolled into a ball together; both reluctant to be the first to let go. In spite of the pleasure that came that night from sleeping like that beside Slip, I could not shake an awful sense of foreboding. After all, what was to become of Slip and Lydia Harris?

***

The rest of that hot season was spent harvesting potatoes with the eventual hopes of saving enough money to rent a property in town. My seventeenth birthday came at the end of the summer, meaning that it was time for me to leave the house where Slip and I had spent our childhood together. Slip's plan was the same as mine and, as he had turned seventeen at the beginning of February, it was time for him to leave too. It was for these reasons that I kept my word to Slip as it was by far easier for us to find a home together.

Despite the advantages that came from living in a place where it took mere minutes for us to walk into town, our new home was compact and in need of some repair. Indeed, the two-storey cottage was tiny in comparison to the old farmhouse in which the nuns had lived in and that we had become accustomed to. The house consisted of two rooms upstairs, which Slip and I turned into sleeping quarters, and two rooms down, which were the kitchen and a small work space area that the previous tenants of the house appeared to have used for carpentering. However, after years of sharing a bedroom together, Slip and I had become used to being in each other's spaces, and neither of us minded the extra work required for the maintenance of the thatched roof and large fireplace. On the whole, the house was comfortable enough, and that was all that really mattered to either of us.

Moreover, the possibility of returning to the farmhouse was soon no longer an option for us, not due to our age--although that would have been a factor considered if we ever did wish to return--but because of what happened that first winter we lived alone. Late in the night of Christmas Eve, a terrible tragedy bestowed upon the house and all those inside. Nobody knew how the fire started, nor what time it began to burn. Accounts of others who lived in town stated that all those who lived in the house had been seen in church, the previous night, for midnight Mass. However, the events in the hours that followed are still, even to this day, unknown. In fact, the news that there had even been a fire did not spread to town until the day after Christmas when it was noted that all occupants of the household failed to attend the church service that took place late in the afternoon. By the time anyone thought to go to the house, and check on them, nothing remained of the building but it’s burnt foundations.

But that was not the most chilling aspect of the disaster. When it was deemed safe enough to enter the destroyed building, to retrieve the bodies that would no doubt be inside, it was only those of the old nuns which were pulled out of the ruins. The bodies of the children, who--like Slip and I--had been taken in by the Sisters, were all missing. Rumours spread, as they always did, to what could have happened to them. However, once the search for them had been given up on--it being an unspoken understanding between everyone that they were dead--interest in the calamity disappeared, as it always did too. Even so, life had to go on and, despite the personal loss Slip and I felt, it did.

The next year, when Slip and I had both reached the age of eighteen, Slip asked Lydia Harris to marry him. The proposal came as more of a shock to me than to her. Of course, since moving into town, the two of them had grown much closer in company.Before the proposal, many an afternoon of mine was spent either helping Slip host a visit from Lydia, and sometimes her mother, or coaching him through an evening that was to be spent with Lydia alone.

It happened one night that was just like any other. Grey clouds sauntered in the summer sky, the early evening sunlight outlining their varied shapes. The chiming of church bells marked the hour to be six. I stood by my bedroom window, looking out of it to watch Slip greet Lydia by our gate. He bent at the waist to kiss her delicate hand, and as he did I felt an ugly jealousy surge through me. I turned away, not wishing for my ill feelings to venture their way down to the happy couple. I succeeded in keeping them away for the remainder of the evening, that was until Slip returned home with his joyous news.

The visits of Lydia with her mother were not as bad as they may sound; Mistress Harries and I got along well. Conversation between the two of us always flowed. This gave Slip and Lydia the chance to enjoy only each other's company, as Mistress Harris and I would sit in the workshop with tea--which had been converted into a living space almost as soon as we had moved in--whereas Slip and Lydia would stay in the kitchen.

The only problem was that topics for discussion did not always flow so easily for Slip with Lydia as they did with myself and her mother, even with the extensive practise we took in preparation for such situations. On the nights where the exchanging of words had been scarce between them, and once the two women had left our company, I was subjected to Slip's worried words concerning how much he was certain that Lydia must now despise him.  

"We said nothing new to each other, Finn! Nothing new at all! How am I to know where we stand with each other if we cannot even think of new things to say? Perhaps we have said all there is, and the rest of our lives are destined to be nothing but a meaningless voids of no conversation? How horrible for us both. I would never allow such a thing to happen. Or perhaps she has grown bored with telling me new things. I could never grow bored of her, Finn, you know that. How could she not know that too?"

Of course, none of Slip's worry had been necessary; Lydia's acceptance of his proposal made that clear. Despite what could now be viewed as bordering on over-dramatics, at the time Slip's anxieties had been real. And so had my ability to revel in any opportunity to succumb to the sensations that came from making him feel better.

Gazing back to those nights, as well as to others that preceded them, it is almost funny to notice how much they influenced my submergence into the false hope that surrounded my own feelings towards Slip. There is little doubt that they contributed to my confusion towards Slip's proposal, as they so often ended with sweet suggestions of our own.

But not all was lost for me from these visits surrounding Slip's courtship to Lydia Harris. After all, Mistress Harris had still taken quite a shine to me, and on one of the visits that she accompanied Lydia to our home--before Slip's proposal to her daughter--she offered me a job.

"I understand that you have had plenty of experience with children, Mr Johnson," she had said, sipping her milky tea through pursed lips. The tea had been a house warming gift from the late Sister Judith, and it pained me to see its delicate flavours being overpowered by too much milk. "You would be an asset to the school and myself. We both know that Mr Pearson will not last forever, no matter how hard he may try."

Mr Person had been the teacher for all students over the age of eleven and under the age of sixteen. He had been Slip and I's teacher when we had attended school, and had looked old even then. It was with great happiness that I accepted Mistress Harris' job offer. After all, farm work was seasonal, and there was only so much you could do before someone else took over.

We shook hands, agreeing that I should start work the following week. This granted Mistress Harris enough time to prepare a new school schedule. It was by this schedule that I followed for the next five years.

***

Slip's engagement to Lydia came to nothing but three long years of extensive wedding planning; by the end of which Lydia decided that she could no longer stand the broken promises and decided to marry the son of a farmer instead. She moved out of town into the residing countryside. After a year of happy marriage, Lydia then left Renfield altogether. The reasons for doing so are still not quite known, but there was a general understanding that it was to do with the sharp decline of her husband's, and every other farmer's, livestock.

Not every farmer moved away, even though the epidemic did have an impact on the entire town's economy. However, Slip and I were hardly affected. As I had expected, my teaching was a steady role and, even with fluctuating numbers, there were always children to teach. Slip had taken a job in the pub, along the main road, where business only ever seemed to increase during times of any sort of hardship. The only negative impact I can recall is having less meat in our diets.

Despite the obvious heartbreak that Slip suffered during this time, I believe that a small part of him had always known that he was to never marry Lydia Harris. After all, throughout those three years of Slip's engagement, there would be nights where I would stir in my sleep from the soft footfall of Slip coming from his room and sanding on the landing. On those nights, which happened at least twice a month, my sleep filled eyes would be greeted by the gentle creak of my door opening, revealing to me the silhouette of a man whose dear mouth still knew how to moan my name. This shadow would then advance to my bed, interrupting the silence of the night with heavy breath, and, in anticipation, the sound of my heart would join his ragged breathing. I would move to one side of my narrow bed, making room for my company as I always had. Alas the rising of the sun assured both the start of a new day and the guaranteed the departure of my bed-mate. But that made no difference in the fact that our night had been spent intertwined together, each of us gasping to the other our praise.

Other than Slip's sorrow, which slowly diminished over time, and the mystery of the disappearing livestock, which was soon forgotten about--as was the way of the town--those years were uneventful. There was some talk of a strange figure, who had been said to be seen travelling through Renfield at the dead of night, taking occupation in the abandoned castle in the mountains, but I did what I could to avoid most news of that dreaded place. Nothing truly worthy of note happened until the following year when our Governor died and his son returned to take his place. It was from that time on that I felt a definite change within our small town. But it was not until one peculiar day, after a day of teaching did I come to discover the horrific extent of the alteration.

Since the arrival of the new Governor, children had started to disappear. At first it seemed like mere coincidence, one every month or so, and would not have been noticed unless someone was keeping an eye. It wasn't uncommon for people to go missing in Renfield and turn up years later unharmed. From this mentality I am sure many just thought this would be the case for the children too. However, as a teacher, it was part of my role to keep a record of how many children attended school and how long any of their absences were. My classes had steadily become smaller, and thus I had the unfortunate position of being aware of the situation before most. But it was not until about half a year of the new Governor’s presence were there cries, from almost everyone in town, for action to taken. Nor was it until this halfway point did I suffer a direct consequence of the horrific changes that had begun to take place in Renfield.

The morning began like any other. Cold winds accompanied my short walk to school, collecting the dead leaves and debris along my path and twisting them into figures that seemed to walk beside me. They disappeared when I reached the school grounds, making way for students with reddened cheeks.

"Good morning, children," I said, unlocking the gate to the playground where already a group of students stood huddled. "It is nice to see you all here early."

A few glances were exchanged between them before they all answered at once. "Good morning, Mr Johnson."

I smiled at them as the gate opened and allowed them to enter first. They all rushed past me, which I assumed was because they wanted a chance to play before the school bell rang. I closed the gate behind me and went to my classroom. The day was not long; indeed the days had started to grow short, and many of my pupils were needed at home in order help bring in the harvest, and other such tasks. Classroom hours had been reduced to take this into account, and the day passed with little disruption.

It was not until my walk home, while I reflected on the day's lessons, did I begin to feel that there had been something bothering them all. Of course, it was entirely possible that each student knew, and was close with, at least one person who had disappeared, and it was simply grief that was making conversation short and games quiet. Then again, there had been something else about them all that I had found unsettling. Once sat inside the classroom, even as the icy air turned thin and warm due to the close proximity of everyone’s desks, each student’s face remained cold. Unfortunately, I did not have time to ponder the matter at too much length as that evening Slip and I were to have dinner together.

It was not uncommon for Slip to return from work a few hours before I left to go to my own. For this reason, there were sometimes days between us where we would not see each other at all. Though this would not have been considered a problem for anyone else in a similar position to us--it was not thought of as unusual for young men to live with each other--the true nature of Slip and I's relationship was not like anyone else's, and thus extended periods of time spent apart had the ability to cause us strain.

It was only after a late night’s discussion, that took place after the church bells had chimed midnight, was it revealed to me that the reasons for Slip's late hours. The old man who owned the pub, and ran it alone, had taken a shine to Slip as he reminded him of his son whom he had lost at an early age. Only then did it become apparent to me that, rather than Slip being overworked, there was a great likelihood that his presence was bringing someone, who was very lonely, comfort. Thus I realised that I could not fault Slip for his compassion, especially since I too had spent hours after work with children who needed a little more guidance, even if it did impact on the amount of time that we were able to spend together.

That evening would have been the first time that we were to properly spend time in each other's company in just over a week. Needless to say I was looking forward to it and, for at least that one night, I did not wish to fill my mind with the troublesome thoughts that were buzzing around town.

To make sure that the meat in the stew I was boiling had enough time to tenderise to Slip's liking, I began preparation for dinner almost as soon as I arrived home. As it was not often that we ate with each other, nor cooked for one another, the meal I made was Slip's favourite and would be, I hoped, a welcomed treat. I knew for certain that there was still a half loaf of thick crusted bread left too, which we would then later use to soak up any of the remaining gravy in our bowls. Excitement hummed through me as I cooked.

When the clock reached the hour Slip was due to return, the whole house was warm from cooking and smelt of delicious simmering beef-stew. Half an hour after Slip was supposed to be home, I decided that it was no longer worth trying to keep his share hot and sat down instead to eat my meal. Another hour passed and disappointment sat inside my stomach alongside my digesting food. I knew that there was no point in waiting up for him, as any time that could be accounted for as lateness had already passed. Getting up from my seat, dejected, I went upstairs to my bedroom.

"At least he shall have his favourite dinner ready there for him when he does get in," I said to myself, readying for bed.

The night drew on. Clouds suffocated the sky and held the gloomy earth hostage, threatening every moment to slice open their bellies and drown everything with murky rain. Awake, I tossed in my bed, each hour that passed filled me with unease. If it rained Slip would be held back even longer, I thought, not even a fool would venture out onto the dark pathways during storm at night.

I do not know at what point I fell asleep, nor do I know how long my sleep lasted. The next thing I knew, I was being woken by the sound of a door below me being opened, and then steps on the stairs. There was no other noise, not even the sound of rain. My body relaxed, unscrambling the facts of the situation from the fiction that my half-conscious mind could entail: Slip was home at last, it wasn’t raining, Slip was safe.

It was the sound of rain tapping on my windowpane that roused me from my sleep for the second time that night. I woke with a start, my heart hammering against my chest at an unnatural rate. My dreamless slumber had taken a dangerous turn. Ambiguous shadows had reached for me in the void, whispering words that I had only just been able to distinguish. My body had remained still from fear. Even after waking, the words had continued to echo through my head, breaking any laws that had been put in place to separate the realm of dreams from the realm of reality.  

"Let me in. Let me in. Let me in."

A shaky breath left my lungs. My legs and my arms were heavy, it felt as though they had been crafted from stone. I steadied my breathing, concentrating on the expansion of my chest on every inhalation. It was with great effort that I rolled onto my side and stared in the direction of my window. Even with it closed--for the weather of the season was far too unpredictable for it to be left open--there was an unmistakable chill in the air. I shivered. The rain had stopped, at least against my window, almost as soon as it had started; supporting my opinions on the fickleness of autumn weather.

It was as I closed my eyes, and made to go back to sleep for a third time, when an unknown anxiety began to tie around my bones. I curled into a ball, bringing what little comfort I could for my body from the familiarity of the position. It made no sense for rain to fall on only one part of the house. If it had stopped outside my window, then I should not be able to hear it pattering against the glass of somewhere else. And yet there it was, a soft tapper against another window. Weariness won my body over before I could find the solution to the mystery. Though if I had known then what I was to find in the morning I would have fought the lures of sleep with all my might to keep myself awake and find out the cause of the tapping.

[ ](http://bottomgeneralhux.tumblr.com/post/148806253801/despite-the-fear-they-brought-those-were-still-my)

[ ](http://bottomgeneralhux.tumblr.com/post/151892464661/amazing-fanart-of-finn-and-slip-from-his)


	3. Part 1 Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my friends Matt, Beck, [white-rainbowff](white-rainbowff.tumblr.com/) and [huxblush](http://huxblush.tumblr.com/) for giving me advice on this chapter.

I woke to the sound of waves colliding against the cliffs on which the tower of my room was perched. My body ached as I turned onto my back and the worn sheets stuck to my middle in a most bothersome way. All at once the shrouded images of the night before revealed themselves. One hand reached to feel the space beside me, my hazed mind already coming to the conclusion that there should have been a weight beside me, the other fingered my swollen bottom lip. The emptiness that met my hand proved my conclusions false. I opened my eyes, an unwelcome sigh breaching my throat. It had been foolish to believe that Kylo Ren would still have been there lying next to me.

My eyes were welcomed by the blackness of the room. A part of me became instantly envious of the quality of the curtains that seemed to hang in every bedroom. Pulling my bed clothes back over my body, I got to my feet and went to the window. Any fear that had been felt the previous night, from returning to that particular space, failed to manifest itself again. I drew back the curtain and at once my vision went white. Dazzling sunlight soared into the bedroom, bounding off every dust covered surface. The sun was high in the sky, evidence that I had slept through the morning. I opened the window, leaning over its edge. The sea had risen too, indicating that the tide was coming in.

I slunk back inside the room, the salty air too fresh for my nostrils, and crawled into bed. The sheets smelt of sweat, sex, and Ren. I did not regret what had taken place between them. Indulgently I rolled into them, holding them up to my nose and inhaling all that there was left of my departed partner. It had been a long time since I had been left feeling so satisfied. Indeed, since returning to Renfield, it was rare--if not near impossible--for me to find a partner that knew the limitations that a relationship with me would endure, let alone someone who met my tastes.

The last had been one of those messenger boys that delivered letters to those of us who still knew people outside of Renfield. His company was desirable to me because it was guaranteed that he would never to return to my godforsaken little town. I first met him when he knocked at my house. He was carrying a bundle of letters and packages that would not all together fit through the letterbox on my front door. He smiled sheepishly as I grazed our fingers together as I took them from him, offering him a drink or a bite to eat. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty.

"No thank you, sir. I have other houses that I need to deliver to, and I need to give myself time to find them all. You were first on my list."

"I am your first?" I said, a sly smile breaking out onto my face. "What an honour that is."

"I think it's because you're the Governor, sir. Isn't that right? The most important man in town." He returned my smile, his blue eyes bright. "They told me that I had to deliver to you first. Or if I couldn't deliver to anyone else, I still had to somehow make sure that your deliveries reached you. Funny, really. When you think about it."

"I'm glad you managed to deliver to me first," I said, as my gaze fell over his chest and down to his narrow hips. An idea formed in my mind. "I would be happy to write a note to your masters informing them of a job well completed. If you wouldn't mind waiting here a moment, I could do it right now?" 

He shuffled a little but nodded. I closed the door as I went up to my study. On a small piece of parchment, I wrote a note of recommendation for the dear boy and folded it neatly down the middle. I then returned to my door and opened it again, glad to see that the young blond was still standing outside.

"Here you are," I said, slipping the piece of paper--as well as a banknote--into his front waistcoat pocket. "There is a little something in there for you too as thanks, but do not take it out now. I do not want anyone knowing that I gave it to you. Someone might try to take it off you."

"Thank you, sir!"

The boy beamed his gratitude. I waved him goodbye, knowing full well that the next time I would see him would be in the public house that very evening. I knew this to be a fact because the owner of the public house rented rooms to those who needed them. Although it would not have taken him more than a day to deliver to whoever else was on his list, the journey to and from Renfield was rough, and it would have been unkind for his masters to expect him to complete it all in one day.

Later that evening, when I entered the place, he recognised me at once. I smiled as he waved me over to sit with him, assuming that he only did so because I had tipped him well. We reintroduced ourselves, giving each other our names. His was Thomas Penrith.

"It feels strange to be in a place where I don't know anyone," he said, leaning on my shoulder to whisper the confession into my ear. "I would have been very lonely tonight if you hadn't shown up."

I smiled, knowing that my tactics were working. "What are you drinking? Let me buy you another. I've always found drinking to be a social activity, wouldn't you agree?"

Thomas nodded, relaxing under the hand that I had placed on his shoulder. We drank another three rounds together before I insisted that I had a finer drink at home.

"And if you're hungry, I'm sure I can find you something to eat." My eyes met the those of the young man serving behind the bar as we stood. They were a pale green and frowned with disapproval as I put my arm around Thomas' waist. "Not that the food here isn't good and delicious, I just don't want you spending that money I gave you. I want you to spend that money on a treat."

Thomas laughed. "Lead the way!" he said, putting his arm around my shoulders as we walked to the door.

We arrived at my door in good time. Thomas had rested his weight on me the entire walk home, giggling with glee each time my hand slipped a little further down his back. I apologised each time it happened--blaming the wandering of my hand on the drinks we had shared--as if it had been an accident when in actual fact I was increasing my understanding of the movement of his muscles and the shape of his body. Once home, I untangled myself from him, knowing that there would be more time to touch, and lowered him down onto my sofa.

"How about that other drink?" I asked, standing over him. He was sprawled out over the seat as if he were in his own home; his legs wide and his head tipped back so that it could rest on the cushion behind him. I could not help but study his relaxed form. Two of his shirt buttons had come undone on the journey home, revealing to me the soft expanse of his long neck coming to meet the fine hair that poked out from the top of his chest.

"No... no, don't leave me here. Don't leave me here in this strange and new place," he said, his Adam's apple bumping as he laughed. "Stay here. Stay here with me. Sit down with me too for a little bit. You pretty much carried me here. You should rest." His hands latched around my wrists and I felt inclined to do as he asked.

I smiled. "If you insist." He grinned up at me, releasing his hold to prop his hands behind his head. I perched on the cushion beside him, resting my hand in the narrow space between us. "Have you a place to stay tonight?" 

"Ah, yes. I rented a room in the pub yesterday when I arrived. My bags are there too. It was horrible journey getting here! It took me a whole day. My masters warned me not to stray from the path, as if I would dare! I thought the boys back in the post office were joking about there being wolves in the forest... but now, coming here... I don't think they were joking."

I listened, observing the movement of his lips as he spoke. My fingers twitched closer to his leg. "In that case, I admire you for your bravery."

Thomas had been in the middle of shaking his head when my hand skimmed the length of his thigh. His mouth hung open, ready to speak, but no words came. All that followed was easy. I undressed him where he sat, sinking between his knees to strip him of his trousers and boots. He gasped beautifully when I took him into my mouth, his clumsy fingers rifling through my hair. By the time I pulled off of him, to invite him upstairs, his legs were trembling either side of my head.

I led him by the hand up the staircase with his shirt open and his trousers falling down his legs. His jacket, waistcoat and braces had been abandoned on the sofa; I promised that I would wash them before he left, a promise that I did not keep. When we reached my bedroom door I pressed him against it, tasting his mouth and letting him taste what was left of himself of my tongue.

"I want you to fuck me," I said into his ear, guiding his hand to my groin.

"I... I don't think I know how..."

Desperation forced me to press against his hand. I groaned, not only from the touch but from the need that I felt to have someone inside me. It was a sensation I had ached for since leaving London; no matter what tools I used to try and quench my desire, nothing had compared to the real thing.

"Fine," I grumbled as I opened the door and pushed the boy inside. "Then get on your knees."

"W--what?"

His hesitation did not surprise me. Even though I had been the one to perform that specific act first, it had not required anything from him other than to sit comfortably. However, I was persistent with my request, pushing on his shoulders until his legs finally gave in to my demands. His mouth was easier to persuade; it opened with ease to take what was offered. I ran my fingers down his flushed cheeks, looking him in the eyes as they bulged up at me.

"Good boy."

The remainder of the evening was satisfactory. I allowed Thomas to play with himself while I thrashed in and out of his throat. His inexperience was evident, and I was in no mood to reward him for his mediocre performance. Nor did I wish to waste time in teaching him the finer ways of using his tongue and mouth.

My ending was swift. Thomas choked and spat. I decided against scolding him. He was such a pretty boy; I regret the way I treated him the next morning. But at least I had been present to see him off and pay for his silence. At least I had been there to lie my confessions that my actions had been a mistake.

Coiled embarrassment unravelled itself from inside my stomach, merging with the frustration that radiated in my chest. I pushed the sheets away from me; if Ren did not even have the decency to stay with me until I woke, I would not give in to anything that he lingered in. Another unwarranted noise escaped through my lips; the absence of Ren's did nothing to stop the annoyance I felt from him not being there.

Compared to other sexual experiences, what we had done together hadn't been particularly complicated. In fact, what we had experienced was actually quite basic. Yet it seemed absurd to compare it to any other of my sexual exploits. It had been so absolutely unlike them, in ways that not even I could comprehend. The words to describe what I felt, what he made me feel, could not be found.

I pulled the sheets back over me, inhaling them deeply. There was no use in trying to hide my desperation. After all, there wasn't anyone here to witness it. Troubled bitterness attached itself to that fact and spiralled to the conversation Ren and I had shared at dinner. No, the conversation that I had shared at dinner. Despite the sensitive, and partially secret, information that I had shared with him, Ren had done nothing but try and derail my concerns and distract me from my duties. Shame bolted through my stomach, colliding with my humiliation and intensifying my rage. He had succeeded.

Outside I could hear the faint call of the sea. Even in times of human idiocy the salt water served as a constant; coming and going as it pleased, and washing away the atrocities of the earth, through storms, when needed. I got up again, thrashing the sheets away for the final time, bending over in search of the clothes I had worn the day before. They were nowhere in sight.

My anger at my own foolishness rocked through me with a growl. Turning to the door I advanced towards it, prepared to kick it down if I had to. But there was no need. When I reached the door and tried the handle it opened with no protest. Exhaling I descended down the spiral staircase, not stopping to marvel at the views out of the narrow windows that I passed. 

The steps of the stone staircase were more uneven than I recalled, and there was no banister, or grip, in the wall to hold onto for balance. It was a wonder that I had not fallen flat on my backside while ascending the stairs the night before. Then again, Ren had been standing behind me during that journey, dictating my way with his deadly sweet voice. There was little doubt in my mind that if I were to have fallen then he would have caught me; his great arms protective around my waist, my back pressed against his large front, my buttocks yielding into his powerful groin... I cursed myself. What could have happened the night before was no longer any of my concern. I continued to make my way down the stairs, irritated that my feet had stopped while my mind had wandered.

Pushing all thoughts of Ren away from my mind, I reached the floor below my room where there was a wooden door that stood open ajar. Although it had been my original intention to go all the way down to the ground floor and find a way out of the castle, a greater part of me knew that that plan of action was completely impractical, not only because I was wearing borrowed sleeping wear but also for the fact that there was still a forest to navigate my way through. Of course I had journeyed the path from Ren's castle to the town alone many times before, but on every one of those occasions Ren had always lent me a horse to ride. These horses were peculiar in that they seemed to know the way to and from the castle without being guided. Thus, travelling by foot alone, without the aid of a horse, the passage was near impossible. Bearing that in mind, along with the knowledge that I was effectively trapped in the castle until further notice and had time to let my curiosity get the better of me, I pulled the door open with ease. Inside I was welcomed by the sight a large bathtub in the centre of the room, a tiled washbasin, beside which were a pile of folded clothes, and a toilet. The rule of no mirrors seemed to be persistent throughout the castle, and I had not been shocked to find that there was not one in this bathroom either.

Further inspection of the clothes revealed to me that they were the ones I had worn the night before, and that they smelt unmistakably like Ren. In spite of my self-given warnings, I breathed the scent in while eying the bathtub and mulling over the likelihood that it had been my elusive host who had brought my clothes down one floor to this room. I was not too dense to understand the message behind Ren’s actions. I was to wash and then dress. Though there was still the question of what I was to do after I had done so. There had been no written note to accompany my things, despite my disappointed double checking as such a note could have slipped onto the floor or easily been hidden from plain sight. Alas, Ren was content on keeping his whereabouts unknown to me, relying instead on my ability to decipher vague messages given through moving my possessions around. It was with further irritation that I bent over the large bath to turn on the lavish styled taps. Though their design was modern, my expectation was for them to be stiffer than they were due to the likelihood of them not being used often; a fair assumption when considering that the entire castle seemed to possess the quality of not being lived in, regardless of the design of the rooms. Subsequently I used more force than necessary to turn them on, and was surprised by how easily they twisted under my hands.

Steaming water began to fill the tub and, despite all the slight annoyances brought on by the morning, I sighed with relief. I let the water flow as I stripped from my night clothes and relieved myself on the toilet. It was while washing my hands that I noticed a small cupboard beneath the sink. Inside I found an assortment of glass bottles of different colours and shapes. Upon further inspection—after opening each individual bottle and smelling its contents—I discovered that they contained different soaps and oils. Choosing a couple, I turned off the water and poured one of the oils into the bath. The sweet scent of orange blossoms collided with the steam, changing the queer atmosphere of the room into something much homelier. I closed my eyes and inhaled. It was becoming less difficult for me to suspend my disbelief and imagine that I were in my own bathroom. A sliver of envy snaked around my tired limbs as I climbed into the tub and lowered myself into the hot water. Of course, it would have been ridiculous to think that I was the only one with a bath and plumbing in Renfield. Then again, most likely being trapped in a tower, miles away from my family home, could not possibly qualify me as being in town. 

I cleaned myself quickly, glad to rid myself of what had been physically left on my body from the night before. It was only when I was scrubbing my armpits, with the second oil that I had chosen, did I regret not examining my body more closely before stepping into the tub. The thought continued to haunt the corners of my mind as I drained the bath and dressed into my old clothes. Although I had never considered myself a particularly unattractive man, a sense of eroticism followed the idea of studying how my undesirable features had been further ruined by what my host had done to me... by what he could do to me. Despite the part of myself that was ashamed that I found such excitement in the humiliation that such an inspection of my body would cause, there was no way to deny that a greater part of myself was annoyed that I had only discovered such an interest after all attainable evidence had been washed away. The strange longing increased as I fumbled with the buttons of my shirt, distracted by the familiar scent of Ren that wafted up from the fabric and settled in my nose. I paused, gazing down at the round outline of my stomach and the, partially covered, area of my soft chest. The plumpness of my body was a sign of my wealth, yet I knew it would be an embarrassment to any hard working man. It had been a mistake to wash away the seed that had dried, and defiled, me there so soon: that I could have returned to Renfield with it still pasted over my chest, and have had it as a shameful reminder of my desertion of the town's best interests.

I sniffed, unimpressed, and finished dressing. The thought of returning to town filled me with some dread. There was no way of knowing the judgement I would face if anyone were to ever learn of the sins I had committed with one of the most hated figures in the entire community. My other option would be to return to the room I had spent the night. However, I decided against that course of action on account of my curiosity. After all, two doors had already been left unlocked for me to find by my absent host, how was I to know that other doors had not been left open too without further investigation?

Leaving the dense heat of the bathroom behind me, I followed the staircase down towards the ground floor. It was with some disappointment that I reached the end of the staircase without passing any other doors which were unlocked. Two floors had been left unexplored, despite my best efforts in trying to get into them. However, my disappointment dispersed, while on the ground floor, as I was met with the sight of another two doors to try. Of course, it was with a minute amount of prying that the second door was discovered. The design of the first door, which was to the right at the bottom of the stairs, was one that I recognised and deduced to be the way in and out of the tower. Set into the heavy stone wall, underneath the steps of the spiral staircase itself, the second door was small and much less grand than the first. If one were not looking carefully out for it, the likelihood was that the door would be missed altogether.

I tried the handle of the second door, assuming that it led to a lower, hidden, level of the castle. But no matter how hard I strained, the it would not budge. Defeated, I walked back to the first door with every expectation for it to be locked too. It would not have been uncharacteristic for Ren to only unlock the doors to the places that he thought I would need, even if he fed me a false sense of freedom in doing so. In reality I was still being kept his prisoner. Thus it was to my surprise, and great delight, that I found the first door to be open. Partially formed thoughts of me being trapped in the castle were half extinguished; though my fear was well founded, and there was no way yet to tell if the rest of the castle had been made off limits to me.

Escaping the stairwell, I found myself at the intersection of two dark corridors. If there were any windows built into the walls along the long way of the passages, they were either covered or blocked for there were none visible. Instead flame torches hung low from the ceiling, flickering about five feet away from each other, all the way down both pathways. The memory of which I had been led down the night before, on the way to my bed, was lost due to the intoxicating company of Kylo Ren. I cursed myself and his name, staring down one passageway and then down the other; their near identical appearance doing nothing to persuade me in which I should take.

Once again the prospect of returning to the room, from which I had come, became an appealing choice of action. I shook the idea from me. The thought of doing nothing but sit up there and wait for Ren's return, in order to show me the way out, brought on a fresh source of fierce inner conflict. I did not need, nor want, his assistance or presence for my exit. It was from my desire to not give in to what--I suspected--Ren expected of me that I took my chances down one of the corridors. I do not know for how long it was that I walked until the walls around me became somewhat familiar. It was not until I recognised a door to my left, that led to the dining hall, that I knew for certain that I had been in that part of the castle before.  

Relief, that I did not know I had needed until it had come, swarmed over me. By instinct, that came from walking a familiar path, my feet found their way to the entrance of the castle. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. My need to leave those accursed grounds, and never look back, was only seconded by my need to find Ren and ask him what hellish games he was playing.

I fell against the old wood of the front door as I reached it. Exhaling heavily, I realised that my legs and arms were shaking. I did my best to steady them before standing up straight. My heart knocked with rapid intent against my rib cage as I reached for the door handle. Even before pushing it I could tell that it wasn't locked.

Bright light burned my vision, and it took me a moment to regain my sense of sight. Warm sunshine bit into my pale skin as I walked out onto the castle's stone front grounds. To my surprise, in the place where Ren usually stopped his barouche, whenever he brought me to the castle, stood a large chestnut horse. The horse was saddled and ready to take a rider. Taking tentative steps forward, I approached the animal with outstretched arms. There was no way of knowing how long the creature had been there, nor why it had not run away to a new life of freedom as it's reins were not tied to anything to stop it from doing so.

The horse appeared not even the slightest bit interested as I came towards it, an uncanny characteristic which would have filled me with concern if the animal had belonged to anyone other than Lord Ren. Even in the limited amount of time that I had seen the man interact with animals, I had come to notice that he had a profound effect on them. Subsequently, whatever sorcery, or training, that Ren used to keep his creatures under his demand must have been powerful, and much sought after, for it seemed to work even when he was absent. Once again I was forced to decipher the thinly established message of my host through the vagueness of his actions. Using the concept of Occam's razor, in that the simplest explanation was the most likely, I came to the conclusion that the horse had been saddled and left here as a means for me to return to Renfield.

After letting the creature sniff my hand, allowing it the chance to learn that my intentions were nonthreatening, I climbed upon its back and kicked it forward. However, that little interaction of instruction seemed almost unnecessary as, as soon as I was safely on board it's back, the animal moved on in the right direction. In spite of it feeling as though the horse already knew the best path in which to take, I still held onto its reins and took every action needed in order to guide it where to go. I did this with the knowledge that it was impossible to ever completely trust any creature, as even the most domesticated ones are victim to moments of madness.

The ride home was unusually uneventful. Trees, painted the colours of autumn, stood calm. The late afternoon sun drifted absently through their branches, scattering light on the path ahead turning the already fallen leaves gold. Every once in a while, the call of a small bird would erupt from amongst the wild berry bushes that lined the trail. At first, the rustling that came with the cheerful tune filled me with some concern. My instinct, in those woods, had learnt that even the most pleasant of sounds could be a warning for trouble afoot. But after turning to the sound and glimpsing the red breast of a singing robin my fears settled down.

When I at last emerged from the forest, spotting the steeple of the town's church long before coming out of the thicket of trees, the sun was beginning to set behind me. It had been my plan to ride into town, turn off the main road and continue on to one of the farmhouses, leaving the horse at somebody else's stables. However, once I had reached the first stone head of a grave the horse came to an unexplained stop. No amount of order or persuasion could convince the creature to move on forward. It was my yearning to return home, and surround myself with some commonplace familiarity, that I descended the thing and continued the last part of my journey on foot. As I passed through the grave, I hazard a look behind me. In the depths of my stomach there was a dulled menacing expectation of what I would find there. The hostile feeling exhilarated through my body at the sight of the horse still there, standing still, watching me as I walked. Though I knew that it was foolish to find fear in something as menial as an unmoving horse, it did not stop me from returning home as swiftly as possible, not daring to look behind me again.

***

My home was as empty and uneventful as I had left it.  Nothing had changed between its aged walls during my absence, despite how different I now felt within them. In a hallucinate daze I moved around each room, barely registering my surroundings before I walked on into the next. The stiffness of the air suffocated my every step. Each room was silent. Long unquestioning shadows sprawled over my belongings, confusing their colour and shape. It felt as though I was either in a realm of a broken imagination, or that I myself was the figment of somebody else's unforgiving mind.

I found myself standing at the edge of my desk. My fingers wandered its forgotten surface, collecting dust on their tips, as I looked out the window. Absently I felt a protesting growl from my stomach, desperate to catch my attention in a way that my mind had failed. I ignored it, knowing that what I hungered for could not so easily be sated. From that side of the house I had plain sight of the ill-fated mountains in which Ren lived. The sun had just dipped under its ridged heights, bringing with it the promise of night. Cursing, I turned away from the scene, knowing full well that if I allowed myself to gaze at it any longer I would be reminded too much of who I had fled.

I moved towards my bookcase, scanning the varies volumes that lined the shelves. The majority of them had belonged to my father. His collection of books was expansive and expensive, though only the finest prints of his favourites were given the honour to sit in his office. The rest were shelved around the house for there was not a single room that did not possess a bookcase. Even my brother and I's bedrooms were subject to holding books that did not belong to us. Fingering a thick leather spine, I recalled the rules that had come with the so-called privilege: under absolutely no circumstances were we allowed to read any of the books that had been placed in our care. Of course, that did not stop my brother and I having the undying need to know just what exactly was between the forbidden pages of at least one of our father's books, and when our father learnt of our disobedience we were each punished accordingly. I never did care for my father's taste in literature. The only books we had been permitted as children were our own individual copies of the bible and reading material for school. My own collection of books had grown during the number of years that I had lived away from Renfield, but it had never reached the size of my father's personal collection. Unfortunately, upon my return to town, most of my books had had to stay in London due to shipment costs. What books I had brought to Renfield were either on the desk, that had too belonged to my father, and a shelf in the great mahogany bookcase which I had cleared for myself. 

My thoughts strayed back to the view outside my window. I did not read any of the books Ren had left me for my pleasure during that first day I had spent in his home. Nor could I remember seeing any other books within his possession. The rooms I had acquainted were absent of them, and the idea to sit down and simply read with the man was so absurd that it had never crossed my mind. If such an activity with him were ever attempted, I feared that it would bring me stress, rather than the relaxation that reading often promised. It was a sad certainty that my eyes would be unable to focus on any page if they knew that he was nearby. My mind too would refuse to intake any of the information that my reading book had to offer, perplexed instead by what sights could be caught at the corners of my vision.

I huffed, dragging one of my father's books from its place, irritated by the hypothetical situation that my mind had conjured. I strode towards my desk, sitting behind it and opening the book onto a random page; the tired pages cracked under the strain. A callous part of my being doubted that Ren was even able to read. Knowing him as I did, I suspected that if the chance to ever sit and read, while in each other’s company, ever occurred, it would be used as an opportunity for him to test how far he could get on my nerves... and how much I would let him get away with.

The position in which I had chosen to hunch over my, randomly selected, book caused my spine to ache. The black printed words, I was attempting to read, wiggled into nonsense. I slammed the book shut. Dust sprung from the pages, getting caught in my lungs. Coughing, I pushed away from the desk, punching my chest with my fist; an action that caused more pain than relief. When the fit finally passed, I got to my feet and returned the book to its place. Regardless of the frustration that had built a home within me, the light from outside had become too dim to read from anyway. Despite my best efforts to avoid it from happening, Ren's presence had continued to infiltrate my head.

Sore longing towered against my limbs as I slotted the book back onto the shelf. A sense of loneliness welled inside my chest, pressing against my ribs and lungs. It was not often that I registered that I lived so alone, nor take on the negative aspects that came with it. Most of the time I felt better for it, knowing that my time was my own and that only I dictated what to do with it. With the exception of my duties to the town, being alone meant that there was no one that I had to answer to, that there was no one that I had to take personal responsibility for. Only sometimes did it dawn on me that with such isolation came a form of suffering. All of my immediate family were dead, and those alive I dared not speak to; I had no friends, so to speak, as I had left them all in London, and I had made no friends in Renfield to come back to. My stomach spun, threatening to unleash what ever little contents it could find. The room around me stood still, unchanged and unaffected, perpetuating my lurking feelings of neglect. I shivered while gasping for air. A distraction was needed. 

Though I had mastered the art of drinking during my early teen years, and usually found drinking alone a solution to many of life's problems, even I was not above admitting when some company was needed for the act to be beneficial. Besides, in a more alarming matter, the prospect of spending any more time with nothing but my thoughts--that had been spiked with the manifestation of Lord Ren--was downright terrifying. The only silver lining to my woe was that, thanks to the hired help, the public house was able to remain open until all customers had finished their final drinks; a small miracle that was not restricted by any time shown on a clock or watch.

The sun had been down long enough for the roads to my destination to be relatively empty. Those that did cross my path did not so much as look up from the sodden ground than realise that it was their Governor whom they had just passed. However, a sinister part of my mind was set on insisting that the reason no one had met my eye was because there was an innate sense within them that had already informed them of my betrayal towards their families, and the town, through what had passed between me and the mysterious Ren that they all so hated. Nevertheless, I had almost reached the welcoming front door of the public house when I was at last cornered by someone who I knew, by the look on his bothered face, would not give me peace until I had admitted to him by sins.   

"Governor Hux, I need to speak with you."

I stopped, my hand midway to the handle of the public house door. Inhaling sharply through my nose, I gave myself a moment to mask any mislaid emotions of irritation before turning to confront him. There was every chance that I had misjudged the intentions of the man that stood behind me as, as soon as he saw my face his expression, which I had interpreted as quarrelsome if not hostile, changed to one of sympathy.

"You look terrible, sir. Are you feeling well?"

The question confused me. "Wh--what?" I stammered, frowning as I met his eye.

"Your mouth, sir. What happened to it? It looks painful."

"My mouth..." I touched the offending area, not having previously properly comprehending how swollen my bottom lip was and what impressions this gave. "I'm fine," I lied, for, without warning, my vision had gone dark; revealing nothing to me but the snarl of Ren's horrid smile, my blood painting his pointed teeth.

"In that case, Governor Hux, I need to speak with you."

The urgency conveyed in the young man's voice pulled me abruptly back into the present. Nodding, I opened the door to the public house and gestured for him to go inside. Having already misinterpreted his emotions, it was difficult to tell whether or not there really was any hesitation in his step before moving inside.

"Your name is Johnson, isn't it? You teach at the school?"

The low lights of the public house had helped to clear my mind and refresh my memory. We sat in a corner, close to the fireplace and not in view of the bar, upon the man's request. The glare of the sunken fire revealed that my company seemed in need of a strong drink too. Thus I had bought us both a gin. Mine sat, half-finished, on the small round table, while he clutched his with both hands.

"Finn. My name is Finn. Yes, I'm a teacher at the school."

"Finn," I repeated, nodding. I held my chin as I gazed into the fire. The warmth it offered was a welcome change to what waited for me at home. "You needed to speak to me, Finn? What is it that is so serious that you cannot wait to speak to me about it tomorrow?"

Finn shifted in his seat, no doubt uncomfortable by my worded implications. He twisted his head to the lone bar, the tender having supposedly returned to the rooms behind it, before looking back at me. His eyes were wide and red and I could not shake the sense that he had been crying.

"My friend... my friend, Slip. You might know him; he works at the bar. He, uh, he came home late last night. Or at least I--I think he came home late last night. I'm not sure. I got up this morning, as usual, but something, um, something didn't feel right. Something was off. I'm not sure what it was. But you know sometimes how the air--how the air can feel too tight? It happens, sometimes, after you've had bad dreams. Last night... last night I had very bad dreams. I hadn't really seen him all week. He'd been working here most nights. I'm sure you know that. I'm sure you've seen him."

I nodded. The man Finn spoke of did indeed tend to the bar of the place in which we sat. I had seen him a number of times, in the public house as well as elsewhere, and could bring his image to mind with little difficulty. His green eyes had always captivated me in the most carnal manner, and if he had not been a well-known face about the town I would have acted more upon my desires towards him than simply slipping an extra-large tip into the pocket of his grey work shirts.

"Yes, I have. What of him? He didn't return home last night? Or he returned home late? That would not be uncommon, would it? With his working here?"

"Um, no. No, it isn't uncommon. Actually, he's been out late every night this week. Um, he was supposed to come home early last night--or at least on time. We had plans, you see. I had cooked him dinner. We lodge together in the cottage just down the way. But that's not my point, sir. My point is that he did return home, in the early hours of this morning, and... Well, as I said, this morning I got up as usual, but I couldn't shake this feeling of unease..."

"And why were you uneasy? Surely his coming home in the early hours is something you would have grown used to? Did his dinner go to waste? I'm certain, whatever it was, would be good for him to eat again today, if you really wanted him to."

"If it were only so simple, sir. I would want nothing more than that to be possible..."

Finn paused. I looked up at him. His gaze wandered over to the dying fire. I cleared my throat, prompting him to continue. Our eyes met and I was taken aback by how beautiful his were; even with the clear tears that were now in their corners. Bewildered, I leaned forward.

"Go on. Tell me. Tell me why it would not possible?"

Finn nodded, and I could have sworn on my heart that I heard him gulp. "I went up to his room to see him this morning, after getting ready and eating. I went up to see him because I was sure--I was positive--that I had heard him come home. He didn't answer to his name when I called, and he didn't come to his door when I knocked... that happens, sometimes. Sometimes he's distracted, reading, or busy that day and has left the house without me hearing. Sometimes he's even still asleep. He can sleep so deeply..."

"And?" I asked, irritated by the constant stopping and starting of the conversation. "Was he still asleep?"

"No, sir. No he wasn't. He was dead."

"Dead?" I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I could I help but feel that the revelation of what had happened to Slip was anticlimactic. It was an unfortunate truth that we all had to die eventually. For some the end came sooner than it did for others. Nothing could be done for those who had already met their fate. "I'm sorry for your loss. I trust you've spoken to all the relevant services? Been to the church, and such?"

"Yes, sir. I have. Sort of. But that's not, uh, that's not the worst of it. I mean, that isn't the reason why I needed to speak with you. There's more. More that I think you should know."

"Well then, I propose that you had better tell me what it is, Finn. For, at the moment, I cannot help but feel as though you have done nothing but waste my time."

"Please listen! I promise that I'm not wasting your time! I'd never seen anything like it. He was in his bed, and at first I thought he was asleep. That was until I noticed that his eyes were open, and then I saw the blood on his sheets. There was so much blood, Governor Hux, so much blood. It had soaked into his bed clothes and his blankets--"

I waved my hand, cutting Finn's panicked speech off mid-sentence. Refusing to hear anymore, I asked, "Have you moved the body?" Whatever that had happened to Slip, I could not be certain that he had not met his fate from the man who sat opposite me. If the man had been murdered, and there was as much blood as Finn suggested, I was sure that--even with my limited knowledge on the subject--I would be able to tell. 

Confusion flowed into Finn's face. Opening his mouth to speak, he shook his head.

"Then I need you to show me, understand? I need you to show me his body."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the last chapter I post for a while because I'm going back to uni and will have other writing to do. In the meantime, please read and tell me what you think! If you spot any grammatical errors/spelling mistakes/ect. kindly point them out too (with compliments also ;)!). Cheers.

**Author's Note:**

> As you may have read from the summary, I do intend this fic to incorporate both kylux and stormpilot. I shall update tagging accordingly as I add chapters. Thank you for reading! Feel free to come find me on my tumblr [here](http://bottomgeneralhux.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Also, please look at this amazing [concept art](http://catnapcpt.tumblr.com/post/146381969630/he-did-not-look-up-at-me-even-though-i-was) by [catnapcpt](http://catnapcpt.tumblr.com)! They asked for extracts of work to get back into art, so I sent them draft copies to this fic. It makes me so happy! Also [look at this mouth](http://catnapcpt.tumblr.com/post/146195994330/havin-troubles-w-this-idea-but-i-like-this-mouth).
> 
> Stunning art included within the fic is by [letmeputitinyourbutt](http://letmeputitinyourbutt.tumblr.com/) and [sinningsquire](http://sinningsquire.tumblr.com/).


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